


To Catch a Ripper

by Imogen74



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: But possible motive explored, F/M, Jack the Ripper - Freeform, Jane and Loki are investigating, Loki loves Jane, Murder, No naming the Ripper, Prostitution, Some Humor, Some scary stuff, some violence, victorian au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-19 19:01:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 85,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4757438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imogen74/pseuds/Imogen74
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane and Loki are merchants in Spitalfields Market in the Whitechapel area during the Jack the Ripper murders of 1888 London. There will be some graphic depictions of corpses...perhaps some lemons late. Established Lokane friendship, blossoming slowly to a romance. If both of them survive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Begins

“Poverty is the parent of revolution and crime.”  
~Aristotle

“Eh, Miss. Ya all right, then?”

“Hm?” she had a look about her…she wasn't paying attention at all.

“She t’ain’t listen’ t’all,” the old woman said to her husband. “I said, d’at’ll be 2 pence,” she had upped the price of the grapes 1 full token, but the woman was smiling all the same.

“Oh, yes. Thank’ee,” replied the young woman, and she paid her 2 pence.

Jane Foster turned and began her walk down Whitechapel Road, bustling with merchants and peddlers and such. It was early London, in August, 1888, and the place was hot with close air…

She nibbled on her grapes, nodding to the other merchants she recognized with a “Mornin’” or a “Fine day.” Jane’s father had owned the apothecary shop just on the outskirts of Whitechapel, in Spitalfields market. He had fallen ill, and Jane, being bright and competent in all things science, took over. Her mother long gone, and Jane the only child. Dr. Foster had never remarried, his only excuse that he preferred the work of the shop to the work of the home. 

So Jane walked on toward the market, about a five minute stroll from Whitechapel Road. She enjoyed her morning constitutional.

She arrived at the aptly named, “Foster’s Apothecary and Finery,” though Jane had always wondered what was so “fine” about anything in the shop. The place required some attention, it was accumulating a thick layer of dust on top of the cabinetry. August had touched the innards of the store, and the heat was stifling. 

Jane threw the windows open and breathed what she could of the air, not so fresh. London had many scents which most people had learned to ignore. Jane, unfortunately, wasn't one of them. 

She set about readying the place for the day when she heard the tinkle of the bell indicating someone had entered. 

She was bent over, rummaging through the drawers at the bottom of the cabinet. “Be right with you,” she said.

“Oh, no rush. I quite enjoy the view.”

Blast. 

She abruptly stood, wiping a stray hair from her face. “Mr. Odinson. What a dubious pleasure.”

“Haven’t I asked you to call me Loki?” and he ran a finger across the counter. “Really, Miss Foster. You keep a filthy shop,” he smiled, and rubbed his forefinger and thumb together to rid himself of said filth.

She hurriedly wiped the place he was standing. “No children to scare this morning, Loki?”

He smiled. “The masses are ridiculously daft, Jane,” ignoring her jab, and he sat in a chair by the window; as she covertly rolled her eyes. “No one reads anymore.”

“You chose a poor spot for your bookshop,” she returned. 

“It wasn't my idea. Odin fancied himself a philanthropist, peddling knowledge. I inherited his mistake,” he crossed his legs, a smirk curled on his face.

Jane had heard all of this before, and didn't care to hear more. Loki often bothered her out of boredom, his bookshop, “Asgard,” was always in the red. He blamed everyone for it…everyone except himself. Thor, his older brother, was the most common recipient of his ire. Luckily for Thor, he had moved to a neighborhood north of the city proper, but Jane had forgotten the name.

She had always liked Thor. He was genteel and proper. 

Loki, while proper, wasn't so genteel. 

But he would come to her shop and complain, and Jane found him mildly amusing, so she seldom complained. They would trade jabs, then round about ten in the morning, the shop would get busy, and Loki would leave for his own establishment. His family was wealthy, so they had hired him some help. He could afford to pester Jane while someone looked after Asgard. 

“Do you suppose you’ll pick up this autumn?” she asked.

“Well, unlike you, I keep a tidy shop. If you want to wait until October to pick up, I doubt you’ll enjoy much business.”

Her hands were on her hips. “I was referring to your business. Your customers! Gah, you are infuriating,” she spat.

He laughed. “I don't pretend to understand the patterns of the uneducated, Jane. Either they will start to read or they won’t.”  “‘Tisn’t their fault they didn't go to school,” she replied defensively.

“Whose is it, then?”

“No one’s. Stop trying to assign blame.”  “You are educated, Miss Foster,” he smiled.

“It was important to my parents that I was,” she gathered some more ingredients and placed them in the mortar, ground them with the pestle, putting some muscle into it. “Look….I’m quite busy Loki. Can we continue this discussion later?”

“If you like,” and he stood. 

“Very much,” she smiled falsely. 

He laughed at her. “You wound me Jane. But I do enjoy these little talks. They are quite diverting.”

“I’m so pleased you enjoy our banter,” she was guiding him to the door. “I really live for it. Now, off you go,” she ushered him out. 

Loki was left laughing as she propped the door open.

He turned, still smiling, and headed for his shop down the block. He wasn't lying, he very much enjoyed the way he and Jane spoke. It was one of the only things he truly looked forward to. So he made the most of it by seeking her out at least a few times a week. 

She was incredibly naive in so many ways. But that was part of her charm.

“Mornin’,” he said to a few other merchants. He wasn't as liked as most, but he knew how to work his charm. It wouldn't do to be surly and abrasive to everyone. 

He entered Asgard. “Well, Fandral. How is business thus far? Bustling?” he poured himself some brew.

“Oh yes. I’m needing to close the shop for the amount of people in here is over capacity,” he turned a page of the book he was reading. 

“What are you on about, man? We have no capacity limit!”

Fandral laughed. “How is Miss Foster? Still as lovely as ever?”

“If you think her so lovely, perhaps you should invite her to one of those drunken evenings you so enjoy.”

“I doubt a lady such as she would appreciate that.”

“Precisely,” and Loki went to the back to see to his ledgers. 

 

August 7th…

Jane was mixing and collecting her monies when Mrs. Jameson came in her shop in a tizzy. “Oh! Miss! ‘ave ya ‘eard? Martha Tabram!” Her eyes were wide and she was breathing heavily. 

“Sit down, Mrs. Jameson. You are overwrought.”

“It’s been all over everywhere this mornin’…she was found, killed she was…and so much blood, Miss!” Jane had escorted her to a chair and gave her some water. 

“Now, Mrs. Jameson. Please tell me what happened.”

“Thirty nine times, she was stabbed! Thirty nine, Miss! And her neck…” she began to sob.

Jane Foster held Mrs. Jameson’s hand as she wept, an ominous feeling descending upon her in her small shop that August morning.


	2. The First One

The First One

A smallish crowd had gathered around George Yard where the murder had occurred. Murders was common enough, but the nature of this particular event was what the fuss was about. Loki had been running an errand when he heard the ruckus, and stopped to discover the nature of the commotion. 

“Well, Mr. Odinson, looks like a pretty gruesome one,” said the constable. 

“Indeed. A domestic?”

“Don’t appear to be.”

“No?” he looked over the heads of the onlookers, an easy enough feat, given his height. At six foot two, Loki was practically a giant in London…most men were barely five eight. 

“Nah. Dunno what it is. But she was stabbed forty times.”

“Forty…?” he breathed.

“Certain enough. Martha. Took to the streets for her doss.”

He nodded. Many in the neighborhood sold themeless for a daily bed. “Well. That is a pity,” Loki remarked. “Hope you get it all sorted.”

“G’day then, govna.”

And he left. He didn't think much of what had transpired. He knew Martha from George Yard. Her man was quick to temper, so he assumed that she had set him off, and he, unable to control himself, snuffed her out. 

Evidently, he was mistaken. 

But forty times…

The bell to Asgard rang as he returned from the market. “Fandral!” he called out. “Where on earth is that git?” Loki went to the back of the shop, and found the git in question sitting eating something…”So good to see you minding the shop you are paid to see to, my man. It sets my mind at ease that you take your job so seriously.”

“Oh, Loki. Calm yourself,” he stood and went back to the front. “I heard ye arrive. There’s a bell, for god’s sake.”

Loki smirked to indicate that he wasn't that cross, but not enough to suggest he wasn't angry at all. He began unwrapping the goods from the market. “Have you heard, Fandral, about poor Martha of George Yard?”

“What? The drunkard with the crack husband?”

“The very person. She was found in the early hours, stabbed, forty times.”

Fandral looked at him, disbelieving. “I…”

“Shocking, no?”

“Was it…?”

“That poor sod she was living with? The police don’t seem to think so,” and Loki took a bite of bread and handed the rest to Fandral.

He was shaking his head. “Just awful.”

Loki seemed to be struck with an idea. “You know, as merchants in the neighborhood, I really should check on everyone. Form a supportive alliance in such a troublesome time…”

Fandral rolled his eyes. “Just go.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he smiled.

“It seems to me that a visit to the apothecary will set your mind at ease, Loki.”  “You know, Fandral,” he was putting on his cap. “Don’t ever allow me to insult your intelligence. You are remarkably bright,” he smirked. “Be certain to lock up, my man. I think that I’ll not be returning after my visit.”

He left the shop.

“Oh, yes. There is a crying need for books in Whitechapel. They’ll be sitting just outside to pillage the place…”

…and the clock ticking in the corner was the only discernible sound.

.....

Jane had just sent Mrs. Jameson away with some soothers and tea. Interestingly, or rather, concernedly, there had been quite a few more people in the shop expressing fear and horror at the murder. 

Murder was, unfortunately, not an uncommon occurrence in the city. Jane had seen and known enough that in many ways she couldn't offer more than an “I’m terribly sorry” and be on her way. But there was something about this murder that was different. Something…sinister…

She had discovered that Martha had been stabbed thirty nine times. Her clothes had been hiked up, but no rape had occurred…Jane knew that Martha had occasionally resorted to prostitution to make ends meet, so there was nothing terribly shocking about that. Many women had to. 

Thank heavens she wasn't one of them.

It was a sad story for many women in Whitechapel and surrounding areas. They lived day to day uncertain of where they would be sleeping that night…if they would have a bed, or if they'd be wandering the streets. 

Jane sighed. She had a bed. A home…a steady job. She began to sweep the floor…

And the bell rang.

“Good to see you addressing the sorry state of your shop, Jane.”

She rolled her eyes. She rather thought that she never rolled her eyes except when in Loki’s company. She turned toward him. “When I said that we could continue our discussion later, I rather meant next week sometime,” and she went to the back to put the broom and such away.

“Oh, Jane. You’d miss me,” he sat at the window once more. “I am come to make certain that you are well, considering that such violence was committed so near to this place.”

Jane emerged from the back with a sad look on her face. She leaned against the door jam, crossed her arms in front of her. “It’s just awful, Loki. Everyone is so frightened.”

“Everyone?”  

“The women.”

“That’s hardly everyone,” he responded, crossing his legs. 

“You know what I mean,” and she walked over and sat on the chair opposite him, on the other side of the shop. “The police know nothing. It wasn't domestic. It was so violent…” she ended in a hush. 

“Indeed,” he swallowed. “Jane, are you taking precautions? Perhaps having a man walk you home in the evening?”

“A man…?” she looked at him quizzically. 

“I could offer such a service…being a man…” he smiled.

“Oh please. I’d be better with a knife of my own,” she stood and went to the door, opening it. She longed for fresh air…she opened the door to the shop to no avail a few times a day. Even in the winter…but no freshness was to be enjoyed.

“I much prefer you without any knife, Jane,” there was a smile in his voice.

She turned to see his smug expression. “You are a swine.”

He stood. “In all seriousness, though, Jane. What says your father?”

“I do not know…I’ve been attending to nervous patients all day.”

“Well. I do think that someone should walk with you.”

“Loki…”

“What? What possible harm could come of this?”

She smiled. She had thought to close up early that day. The place had been quite busy and she was eager to get home to her father. “Oh all right,” and she went about closing up the shop. “Ready?” she smiled.

“As ever,” and he closed and locked the door behind them.

They began to walk toward her home about a ten minute journey from Spitalfields to Algate. 

Jane was deep in thought…

“It is a bit more than a pity that women must always suffer at the hands of violent men,” she observed after a moment.

“It may not have been a man, you know.”

She looked at him crookedly. “Of course it was a man.”

“How very narrow minded, Jane.”

“You aren’t serious,” she laughed.

“What? There are many possibilities which exist in this world. A woman committing hideous murder is only one of them.”

Jane shook her head, but smiled. Then she swallowed, and looked down at the road again. “I had seen her, you know…”

“She had been seen by many, I’d venture.”

She ignored this. “Only last week I had said good morning to her…”

“You wish dozens of people a good morning every day,” he muttered.

“I never really spoke to her, though…” she continued. “Not really. I wish that I would have; now that it is too late.”

“What is your point, Jane?” Loki asked as they turned her corner.

“My point, Loki…” she said with emphasis. “Is that she was a person. A person who, only twenty four hours ago was alive. And now she is dead…and she died in a most awful, horrific fashion. And what will the police do to discover the villain? Nothing. They will hold some interviews, and an inquest…and she will fade into obscurity,” they were at her house now. She faced Loki. “But she was a person. A person. And now she is a corpse.”

“Now, Jane. People die every day. Sometimes they are old, and it is expected, sometimes it is a great shock and everything is very sad. But we work in an area which unfortunately holds much violence, and murder is a common enough occurrence.”

“That doesn’t make it right, you know.”

“Right and wrong are relative terms. Is it wrong for a pauper to steal some bread to feed his starving family? It is to the shop owner whose livelihood depends on receiving funds for that bread.”

“Humph,” Jane grunted. “We are talking about vicious murder, Loki. You are talking about some bread.”

“But perhaps…” and he leaned against the wall of her building. “Perhaps the baker decides to press charges on our hypothetical thief, and the police arrest him…however unlikely that particular event is…and they throw him in the cells…and his family, unable to feed themselves, starve to death. Is that murder? Inadvertently, of course,” and he smiled. 

“Good lord, Loki. You are something. Now you are going to tell me that the fiend wanted to feed poor Martha’s flesh to his dying dogs and who are we to judge the value of a loyal dog to a worthless drunk?”

He tapped her nose, she smacked it away. “You read my mind,” he returned. “How is Dr. Foster, by the bye?”

“Father is well enough,” she looked at the door. She should be going in. 

“Only well enough?”

“He longs to work, but there is simply no way for him to comfortably do so. He mumbles and moans…sometimes I think that we need someone other than Darcy in to help.”

“Oh yes…you hired someone. How is she?”

“She’s all right. She comes in every day for a couple of hours. Keeps her off the streets, at least.”

“For toppens, I’m certain,” he nodded. No answer. “Jane?”

“Bit more, then,” she said. “What?”  “You aren’t wealthy, Jane. Best watch your funds.”  “I’ll thank ye to mind your own business when it comes to my personal funds,” she said with heat. “Well. I should be getting in.”

“No offense meant, you know.”

She nodded. “Of course,” she began to ascend the stairs. “I’ll be seeing you next week, then?”

“Oh…in the morning, I imagine…” he began to walk away.

“It’ll be dreadful lonesome without your company all week, Loki!” she called after him.

“We can continue this riveting discussion in the morning. I’ll bring you some bread!” as he walked away.

“Just be sure you don’t nick it and cause some poor family to starve to death! I couldn't live with myself if you died in a cell!” she paused. “…on second thought….bread sounds lovely!” and she opened the door.

“You wouldn't know what to do with yourself, Miss Foster!” and he rounded the corner. 

Jane went inside, took her hat and wrap off, and placed them on the small table in the hall. “Father?” she called.

“In here, child,” his voice came from the sitting room.

She went in and pecked his cheek. He looked so pallid…”Have you eaten supper?”

“I have. There’s some beef and potatoes on the stove…I think that the girl left some beans.”

She smiled and went to the kitchen. “How was your day, father?” the small iron stove was still warm, Darcy must have left within the hour; it was early yet, so that was likely.

“Very good, Jane. Did you hear about poor Martha?” he called.

She winced. She had hoped that he would be spared that knowledge…but Darcy was a gossip. She should have known better. “I did,” she sat next to him by the fire and tasted the salty beef. At least Darcy could cook. “Just awful.”

“Truly. Be careful Jane. That took place so close to the shop.”

“I know I know,” she smiled. Then, a moment later, “Father…do you think it’s possible that a woman did that terrible thing?”  

“Not at all.”

“No. And the police are so useless…they care for this part of London as much as her Majesty.”

“Mind what you say, Jane. She is your Queen.”

Jane shrugged. “What if someone else began to look into it?”

“Someone else?”

“Someone besides the police.”  
“Whom did you have in mind?”

Jane smiled. “Well…Mr Odinson…”

“If you mean Loki, Jane…he is rather useless. I know his father, and the stories I could tell…”

“He isn't useless! He’s actually fairly smart. He’s just…a bit lost.”

“And you think that you can direct him?” he pulled the throw closer around him, feeling the chill of night descending.

“No. But maybe if he had a purpose…”

“To protect the slums of eastern London?” he laughed. 

“No. To help me catch a villain.”


	3. August

August

Loki Odinson was a fairly respected merchant, as far as merchants went. He was known to be a bit short in demeanor, much taller in stature. The gossip was that his father had deposited him in Asgard to shut him up and keep him well away.

The irony of the situation wasn't lost on the more educated in the area. Asgard, the name of the Norse Realm, unattainable to mortals. Books, for these folk, were almost as unattainable.

No one in the Odinson family desired the shop, and so Loki got it. Loki was a troublemaker for his family, testy and spoiled. Entitled. Jealous. Especially of his older brother.

Though it must be maintained that Loki was playful, and to many, harmless enough. He went about his business with a dignified air. Resolved, as it seemed, that this was to be his station; some even compared him to the Scrooge of Dickens’s fame, but most thought that too severe a correlation. Honestly, Loki appeared to care for money only insofar as it afforded him basic things. He wasn't vain in that sense.

He was an intellectual snob.

And that was off-putting to the inhabitants of Eastern London.

Most of the women in Spitalfields felt sorry for Jane Foster when he began to show her attention. Poor thing…she had never asked for it.

But then it appeared that though the young Apothecary was annoyed by Loki, she didn't mind the attention, as such. So they all shook their heads and mumbled…”There’ll be wedding bells soon enough.” “Old Lord Odinson won’t be liking that, to be sure.”

It never happened. For well over a year the two sparred with one another, and the locals gave up the speculation as a bad job. They were friends. Sort of…

The few people who knew Loki really well knew the truth of it.

He was attracted to Jane.

Perhaps he didn't even know just how much.

But he was as stubborn as he was tall, and there would be nothing to it unless she made a move.

And knowing Jane that was hardly likely.

Poor Fandral was the harborer of most of this information, and he carried it with some snark. He had tried to hint at his boss asking her out, but he was answered forever with a “Nonsense.” If, however, anyone was said to be showing interest in Jane Foster, Loki was soured for at least a day.

It got to the point that he didn't even attempt to mask his attraction for the young Apothecary around Fandral…but he never admitted that it was anything more than that. And of course, many men found her to be so. Why shouldn't he? He had blood in his veins, did he not?

Fandral had made mention of Loki not finding other ladies attractive so much…there was something particular about Miss Foster.

He was then told to shut up.

So it was, this tedious dance Fandral was subjected to witness day after day. It exhausted him as much as it amused him.

* * *

 

The day following the crime inflicted upon Martha Tabram dawned bright and sultry. Loki walked along the thoroughfare as the merchants opened their shops. There was some talk of the incident, but it had subdued substantially. There was money to be made, and the death of a prostitute did not alter that fact.

Loki arrived at Asgard around seven thirty for his eight o’clock opening. He should change his operating hours. No one entered the shop before noon.

But he was a fairly early riser, and his schedule demanded that he be home by six to read and such.

So, eight to four it was.

The Apothecary, he recalled, was open until well past six…Jane had a long day in the market.

Perhaps he should hold ten to six hours. He’d discuss this with Fandral.

The windows were thrown open, the lamps out…he went to the back to see to his ledgers.

And the bell tinkled in the front.

He went out to find a smiling young Apothecary standing in his shop.

“Jane. You’re here…” she didn't visit him ordinarily. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” she replied, and fidgeted a touch. This was awkward. “Loki…I’ve been thinking about what happened yesterday. And I think…I think…”

“Out with it Jane. I cannot abide waffling.” It was true. One of the reasons he liked her: her forthrightness.

Her chin lifted with resolve. “Very well. I think that someone besides the authorities should be investigating the murder.”

His face betrayed confusion. “What do you mean?”

She dropped her gaze and went over to the bookshelves, procuring a book and flipping through it. “I mean the police are inept in the extreme, and I think someone more competent should be looking into this.”

He crossed his arms in front of him. “Someone…? Someone such as you, perhaps?”

She put the book back and looked at him, smiling broadly. “Since you suggested it…”

“No. Absolutely not. What are you thinking? It’s enough that you are a woman who keeps long and late hours in a suspicious area. You are not going to go gallivanting about in search of a murderer.”

“But…if I had someone else…a man perhaps…” she side eyed him covertly as she made her way across the shop. “Then the likelihood of any mishap is greatly diminished.”

“Mishap? Such as…oh I dunno… _your violent death?_ Look, I don't care about people ordinarily. Those few people who I like, even a little, I don't care to see murdered.”

“Oh, so I’m on your short list of likable people, and shouldn't attempt to discover this fiend because you might lose one of the few people you condescend to like?” she spat. “Is there no end to your ridiculousness?”

He stopped himself from commenting further. He was in danger of saying too much…he swallowed to steady himself. “Do listen to reason, Jane. Allow the police to attempt their job. You’d likely just be in the way of the investigation, and slow it even more than it already is. And think of your father! What of him? You are being irresponsible.”

“How dare you mention my father!”

“Someone needs to think of the poor fellow. His own daughter forgets him.”

She was livid. She was nearly ready to strike him, and she advanced upon him…”You…”

But they were interrupted by the door. “Erm…boss? Should I come back later?” He saw his employer and the woman he was practically in love with glaring at one another in close proximity. She looked as though she might slap him.

“Not at all, Fandral,” he stepped away from the heaving Jane and looked at him. “Our Apothecary here was just telling me of her plans to discover poor Martha’s murderer. What are your thoughts on that subject?” and he took off his suit jacket and took it to the back office. He was overheated.

Fandral looked at Jane. “Pardon?”

She huffed and clamped her mouth shut.

“Indeed, yes,” Loki returned. “Quite a mess, this business. You see, Jane? Even Fandral is rendered speechless at this information. Do reconsider your plans.”

“It wouldn't be so ludicrous if you weren't being so stubborn and consent to aid me in this venture.”

“Hang on,” interrupted Fandral. “You want Loki to help you?” and he laughed.

Loki glared at him. “And why is that funny?”

“Well…it’s just…” he laughed some more. “I can’t really see you chasing some wretch with a knife around London…” he bent over in hysterics. “You’d try to reason with the lunatic…” he stood upright and looked at Jane. “On second thought…it’s a fine idea. But only if I can tag along. I must see this.”

Jane smiled at him. “Maybe you and I could attempt…” she began.

“Enough!” Loki exclaimed, waving his arms about. “I’ll hear no more of this madness. And if you are now attempting to recruit Fandral, then I daresay you have lost your mind. The fellow cannot find his house key most days, how is he expected to discover a murderous villain?”

“I feel as though I should be offended, but since I am saved the trouble of losing my life in a bloody pool, I’ll leave it at that,” Fandral then went to the back of the shop to set up for the day’s business.

Loki then looked at Jane with a hint of desperation. “Please, Jane. Do think about what you are suggesting.”

“I have, Loki,” she replied solemnly. “No one cares about these people. No one advocates for them. I am somewhat more respected than most of these women…I can do something for poor Martha and those effected by her death,” she paused. “Will you help me?”  
She searched his face.

“I cannot support this. I won’t help you. Besides, I honestly believe that interfering will impede any attempt at an investigation the authorities are mounting.”

“Very well,” she said, and turning on her heel, went out the door.

He was left there, wondering if he had inadvertently sent her to her death…

Perhaps he should help her.

“Has she gone?”

Loki nodded.

“And she’s really going to do this thing?”

“Evidently,” replied Loki, turning toward him.

“You should help her. Shut her up. She’ll tire of it,” and Fandral sat behind the counter.

“Oh Fandral. You have no idea who you are speaking of. A more stubborn creature never existed,” and he went to the back.

Fandral smiled to himself. “Oh…I dunno about that.”

* * *

 

 Jane went out into the morning air, heavy with humidity and thick with scent. She had no idea where to begin…but she thought she had better start with opening the shop.

Infuriating man! He was awful, just awful. He thought of no one but himself, really.

Well…he did seem to be genuinely concerned about her. He did seem to care about her welfare.

But that, she surmised, was because she put up with him when no one else would.

Why did she…?

Jane entered her shop and began to see to opening for business.

She put up with him because he challenged her. He was unlike most men among her acquaintance. He was quick witted and very intelligent. He was almost funny.

She opened the windows, propped open the door; began opening the cabinets.

Jane sighed as she readied the salts. She could conduct some investigation from work…ask people. She enjoyed a fairly steady business.

Loki had a point about her father, which was why she had such a reaction. But no harm could come from asking a few questions to a few customers…

And she set out to do just that.

_“Martha was a quiet sort…’cept when she drank.”_

_“Martha’s man…he kept to ‘imself. Didn't bother with no one.”_

_“Martha was desperate that night for her doss money. She ‘ad drank it all…”_

Jane had reached the conclusion by the end of August the ninth that Martha didn't want to hear from the man she was living with, and probably felt some guilt about Henry, as the two of them had split just a few weeks ago. She had hit the bottom, and likely felt rather helpless.

She didn't think that it was her man or Henry.

She thought, by the fifteenth of August, that someone had hired her services, and went mad.

“Yes, thank’ee. I’ll have those two there,” Jane was purchasing potatoes for dinner, as Darcy requested the day off.

“You’re getting a raw deal, Jane. The purveyor just there is selling them for two pence.”

Jane turned to see Loki standing behind her. He hadn’t made an attempt to see her since that day in his shop a week ago. “Loki.”

He smiled and took a bite of an apple. “And how is our amateur detective fairing this evening?”

She paid her pence and began to walk away. “I’m fine. And you? How are things in the world of books? Obviously quite important since the fate of your fellows is so trivial to that of the pages of a book.”

If she only knew that he followed her every night since their spat…she wouldn't be so quick to dismiss him. “Things are well enough. Have you discovered who our mad murderer is yet?”

“No. But I don't think that she knew him. I think that he had hired her.”

“Brilliant. That eliminates…what…five suspects of five thousand? Excellent work. We should have the culprit by the turn of the century.”

“You know, no one asked your opinion. You made it perfectly plain that you had no desire to help…you should hold your tongue.”

He chuckled as they walked toward Algate once more. “Have you alerted the authorities about your compelling hypothesis?”

“They don't care,” she muttered.

“Well, that is a bit of a harsh assumption. They haven't any idea who might have committed the atrocity. Their reputation and credibility depends upon it.”

“Of course. But they would just as soon forget the whole business.”  Loki shrugged. They were nearing her street. “So…we are friends again, then?”

“Oh, friends are we?” but she was smiling.

“That is to say, we are fellows in the business of commerce.”

Jane stopped and turned toward him, a very serious look about her. “Of course, Loki…but you must understand…there is so much violence in the world…so much of it is directed toward women. I felt compelled to do something to help.”

He smiled at her, nodding…”Understood.”

“I’m afraid,” she whispered.

“Of?” his brow was furrowed.

Jane’s eyes skirted around her street, then she began to walk toward her house once more, clutching the potatoes close to her person. “I have horrible dreams…and I often fancy that I’m being followed at night after I close the shop.”

He cleared his throat. “Now Jane…you are letting yourself get carried away in this investigation of yours.”

“I’m through investigating it. There was talk,” and her voice dropped even lower once they reached her door. “…of strangers about recently…foreigners…”

“There is always talk of that nature. Do not allow yourself to become afraid of such idiocy of prejudices against foreigners…”

“But…they coincide with the recent violence. Maybe as far back as last winter. I think that I may have exposed myself…”

He was taken aback by her choice of words. “Exposed?”

“Yes…through my questioning of various people. I think that I may have tipped off the murderer.”

“Well, now Jane…”  She grabbed his hand, and he panicked momentarily. He had never seen her thus. She wasn't a fearful person. “I’m in earnest, Loki. It would set my mind at ease if you’d agree to see me home for the next few days,” she wasn't looking at him as she said this.

“Of course,” he swallowed.

She looked at him, smiling.

He wretched his hand from her grasp. “You…you know, don’t you!”

“I’m so glad that you didn't agree to help me. I would have been discovered within hours.”

She needed a good smack. “You, Jane, are a cad.”

“No…I’m a good detective,” she returned.

“Heaven help us all. This is what we are all coming to.”

“What is that?”

“Amateur detectives fancying themselves proper sleuths.”

“I am a proper sleuth!” she crossed her arms in defiance across her chest. “A far sight better than Scotland Yard! Martha has been dead for ever a week and what has the Yard to show for it? A corpse with no one responsible, a murderer who will likely strike again.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Best not to get involved, Jane.”

“Thank ye, my fellow entrepreneur, for your fierce concern. I think I’ll be just fine,” and she began to ascend the stairs.

“Jane Foster, you are something.”

“’Tis true. So happy you recognize that,” she clicked the door shut.

And Loki walked back down the road, his mind full of just how something this woman really was.

* * *

 

August was coming to a close, and no one was suspected of Martha Tabram’s murder. Scotland Yard had all but abandoned the investigation.

Jane Foster, though she hadn’t given up hope altogether, had mostly ceased her questioning.

Loki had resumed visiting her a few mornings a week.

In other words, by the time the sun rose on August the 31st, things were almost normal.

Until it was quickly realized that they weren’t.


	4. The Second One

**The Second One**

Erik Selvig didn’t want to be called into any office. Being a foreign officer, he felt under a constant microscope, so he tried to keep a low profile.

Scotland Yard was a dreary place to work. Very grey. Very loud.

Higgins came up to Erik and smiled. “Sir Anderson wants a word, Mr Selvig.”

Erik rolled his eyes, but smiled all the same. “Indeed? Well…I best be on with it,” and he rose from his chair and went into the assistant commissioner’s office.

“Selvig,” said the balding Robert Anderson from his desk, his nose in some papers. “Have a seat.” The commissioner was older, much older than most in the department. There had been talk of him retiring. But here he remained.

Erik sat down. “So…you were asking for me?”

“What do you know of Whitechapel?”

Dirty. Poor. Some mercantile activity. “Not that much.”

“There was another murder there in the early hours, and I’d like for you to be our man on the ground.”

Erik liked being on the ground. He didn't like multiple murders so much. “Another?”

“Yes…” and Anderson shuffled papers. “Just so. Another. Bit of a panicked situation there just now, Selvig. We need a presence there to inspect and such. We have reinforcements there now, but an investigation is ongoing. We are asking Inspector Abberline back, as he knows the area quite well. You’ll be answering to him if he returns.”

Erik nodded. “When will we know if he’s returning?”  

“Within a few days,” Anderson had yet to look at him.

“Very good,” and he rose. “Well…I’ll leave information I’ve gathered with…”  

“Abberline,” now he looked at him.

“Right…” he wasn't an idiot. He was Swedish. And he left for Whitechapel Road.

* * *

 

Buck’s Row. It held no particular meaning to anyone in Whitechapel or Spitalfields until the morning of August the 31st.

That was where Mary Ann Nichols was found, throat sliced, abdomen open, with other slash marks on various parts of her body. The crowd had dispersed, though there was plenty of unease.

And Jane Foster was there, watching as the body was taken from the scene at about five thirty in the morning. She was visibly shaken. She would need to start watching out for herself…this was no game. Not that she believed it ever was, but she herself hadn’t felt threatened. Now, she rather did. Jane lingered long on Buck’s Row, thinking about what she should do.

“Everything all right, Miss?”

Jane was startled from her reverie. “Yes!” she cleared her throat. “I mean…yes. Fine, officer. It is awful, isn't it?”

“That it is,” said the officer.

“You aren’t British, are you?”

“No. Swedish,” and he smiled.

“What are you doing here?”  

“My wife is from London. We moved here just a year ago.”

Jane nodded. “Well…London can be a bit rough. But it has its charms, too,” she smiled. “Are you heading the investigation for Ms Nichols?”

“Not exactly. Holding it for someone for the next couple of days,” he rocked on the balls of his feet, smiling. “Did you know her?” he added softy.

“No,” she didn’t…never saw her the way she had seen Martha. “No.”

“Well. I understand that there has been some violence here as of late. Best mind yourself.”

“Do the police…” she began as Erik started to walk away. “Do you have any leads at all?”

“I’m not at liberty to say, Miss.”

“No, but…there was another murder here…not even a month ago. And no one was arrested. Nothing came of it,” she paused, swallowing. “I…asked questions…I think that there was something very different about her murder. And if…if you don't find any leads straight away for Ms Nichols, maybe we could talk?”

Erik looked at the young woman crookedly. She appeared to be very anxious…well. Who wouldn't be? “Of course, Miss. Of course,” and he turned once more… But Jane grabbed his sleeve.

“No,” she breathed. “No…I mean it. I’m not being smart. I know some things that might help.”

And the officer looked at her steadily, and nodded. “Thank’ee, Miss.” He left her there.

And Jane wrapped herself tight despite the heat filling the air. She shivered, and turned to walk in the direction of Spitalfields Market. She hadn’t been able to sleep…she awoke just an hour previous, and decided to take an early walk to work. Maybe stop for a pastry she never allowed herself.

And another violent murder. She felt positively ill.

Jane walked in the direction of her shop and went inside. She slumped into the chair and felt tears threaten.

She didn't know Mary Ann Nichols, but from what she had heard at the crime scene, she had been a prostitute. Given this, she needed to rethink herself….was she threatened? She wasn't a prostitute, never had been, and God willing, never would be. But she felt kin to these women. She was a woman. That in and of itself meant something.

No…she surmised. She was relatively safe.

She sighed. It meant something, being a woman…What it meant, she wasn't sure. But it meant something. And those Officers…they were all men. They didn't care. Not really. Jane swallowed. She would start this afresh. She would do this thing.

It was eight thirty when she finally opened the shop, a full two hours after she had arrived. She had spent the morning deep in thought, wondering what she was going to do to discover this murderer. He only needed to be relatively bright. The officers weren't that adept.

The bell rang out. “Jane! Have you heard?”

She turned to see Fandral there. That was odd. “I did. Yes…were you on your way to Asgard?”

“I was. I thought that I’d stop by. Loki is likely there already, and would want to check on you. I wouldn't see him for the rest of the day,” he added with a smile.

“He can be a bit intense,” she smiled and opened the salt cabinet.

“He means well. He’s concerned.”

“No doubt,” she wiped off the counter.

“I’m in earnest, Miss Foster. I think…” Fandral paused a moment. “…I have reason to believe that following this latest crime, that Loki will…” he swallowed. “That he may offer you his help.”

Her eyes snapped to his. “He will?” she breathed.

“Now…I’m telling you thins so that you are prepared for it. I do not want you to be taken unawares and laugh at him.”

“I would never…!” she stopped, seeing his eye. “Very well. Yes. You are right,” and she smirked.

“He wants to…” Fandral paused. He must tread lightly. It wouldn't do to suddenly give away his boss’s heart, especially since Loki had confessed nothing besides idle attraction for the lady. “He wants to help sort this out.”

Jane heaved a heavy sigh of pleasure. She wasn't going to be alone in this! What a mercy! She would even suffer Loki’s cheek for it. And, as she had often admitted, Loki wasn't all bad. He had many good points, she reminded herself. She would be pleasant to him when he arrived that morning. “Thank'ee, Fandral. You are a good sort,” she smiled.

“Thank’ee Miss. I find you particularly amiable,” he tipped his cap and left the store.

And Jane Foster smiled widely, then chided herself for such a display. A woman was murdered! Have some care, Jane. But she continued to smile all the same.

* * *

 

“Mornin’ boss,” cried Fandral, entering Asgard.

“Well. A happy man arrives at his place of employ half an hour after opening,” he was behind the counter, wiring in a book.

“Come, Loki. You’ve heard about Miss Nichols. Everyone is in a state.”

“That doesn’t concern me,” he replied. “Doesn’t…” he began. “What is your problem, my man? What of Jane Foster?”

This started him. “What of Jane Foster? Well, Fandral, you should know. Were you not just at the apothecary’s?” he spat, staring at him.

Fandral looked at him a moment, then laughed. “Loki… I was merely verifying that she was all right. I know her too, and I thought that if you went there, I wouldn't see you the rest of the day.”

Loki looked at him, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why are you concerned?”

“Erm…because I’m a human being?”

“Paltry excuse,” he mumbled, then finished opening the shop.

About an hour later, Loki was fidgeting, inventing silly chores…Fandral was annoyed beyond measure. “For god’s sake. Go see her!”

Loki snapped his gaze at him. “I haven’t…”

“Go see Jane! You are dying to! And you are driving me round the bend with your idle chores.”

Loki cleared his throat. “I…” he stopped. “Oh all right. But only because you are practically begging me to.”

And he left. And Fandral fell into the chair, sighing heavily. “Thank the Lord above,” then he smiled. “Good luck, Jane Foster.”

* * *

 

 

Loki’s hands were shoved in his pockets.

When he had heard about Mary Nichols, he nearly fainted. And he wasn't faint at heart. There was something very much amiss here. He had come to believe that the same person had murdered both Mary and Martha.

And that person would strike again. He looked up, having almost run right into a gentleman, and he eyed him quizzically. Could this be the man?

And then everyone became a suspect…

He was suddenly aware of every man on the street…their look…their gait…he fancied they were watching him, watching them.

Loki arrived at the apothecary in a pant, and slammed the door closed behind him; his back to the door, leaning against it. He looked around the shop to see Jane Foster staring at him.

He swallowed. “Jane. Good morning,” he coughed, then let go of the handle.

She laughed. “All right, then. Loki?”

“Fine. You?”

“Well enough.” He nodded. “It’s rather close in here Jane. You should keep your door open,” and he opened it once more, smirking at her.

“Well, you can’t be too careful nowadays. Look at poor Mary Nichols.”

“Don’t make jokes, Jane. It is unattractive,” and he peered at the street, then turned back into the shop. He had let his fancy get the better of him. How humiliating! He would need to tread lightly if he was going to do this thing. “So, Jane,” he sat in his chair.

No…not his chair. The shop’s chair.

“Yes?” she asked sweetly.

He gave her a critical look. Then rolled his eyes. “Fandral.”

“Pardon?”

“That knave! I should sack him this very moment.”

“What are you on about, Loki?” Jane handed him some tea.

“He was here. He spoke with you,” he accepted the cup.

“He was,” and Jane sat opposite him with her own cup.

“And what did the two of you discuss?”

“Many things. The weather. He was concerned about me given the recent…” she paused. “Unpleasantness.”

Loki glared at her. “Hm. ‘Unpleasantness’? That’s what you are calling it now? Not so long ago, you were in quite a state about this business.”

“I remain in a state! But I also discovered that getting myself in such a state isn't helping. It isn't keeping women alive.”

“No,” he downed his tea. “Jane, I’ve been thinking.”

She braced herself. “You have? Is that safe?”

“For whom?”  

“For anyone,” she smirked.

“I daresay that Fandral that dimwitted cur has alerted you to at least part of my purpose.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she replied with saccharine delight.

He cleared his throat, eyeing her suspiciously. “I wish to help you,” he lowered his gaze.

“Excuse me?”

And now he looked at her. “I said, I wish to aid you in your endeavor. I believe this is the work of the same man who murdered Martha Tabram. And I also believe that the authorities are not equipped to handle this sort of crime.”

Jane clapped her hands together. “Excellent,” and she closed the windows, the door…she peered out of the front window, then locked them all. She turned to Loki. “I am very happy that you have agreed to this. Now, we needn't do anything too risky, but we might need to scour the nights when the ladies walk for their doss.”

“Jane…calm down. Are you serious? You want us to be on the streets at all hours…?”

“That’s when he strikes. I am absolutely convinced the same person murdered them both,” she pulled the chair closer to Loki, and he sat back, a concerned look about him.

He nodded. “Very well, Jane Foster…what do you know?”

“Not so much about Mary Ann Nichols. Except that the police are about to launch a search for the wrong man.”

“Wrong man?” he asked.

A smirk played upon her countenance. “Tell me, have you heard of ‘Leather Apron’?”


	5. The First Week of September

**The First Week of September**

_June 3rd, 1888_

_“Come into da ‘ouse, Freddy!” called his mother from the stoop._

_Freddy Cole was drawing with one of those stones that behaved like a pencil on the sidewalk on Sidney Street. There were other children along the row…some were drawing, others singing, some were kicking a ball._

_“In a mo’, mum!” He called back._

_The Cole’s had changed their names since they had arrived from Ireland. There was worry in the capitol in their homeland. Unrest abroad had created an influx of immigrants, and Dublin had swelled to capacity. London was worse._

_Freddy looked down the street as_ _he stood from the curb. The men his dad referred to as “Jews” were congregating on the corner, huddled up and muttering. Freddy thought that they looked like they were exchanging secrets, so he went over covertly to listen._

_In deep accents, he heard things like: No one trusts us here._

_Just like home… He felt rather sad by this, and walked away, head down._

_“Eh, mum!” he yelled, entering the room they were lucky enough to live in. “Those men down der, dey’re all pretty sad.”_

_“Which uns?” Kate looked out…she saw the Jews talking in a circle down the road. “Well, dey ought, eh? Dey’re all over now…taking your Da’s job,” she walked back in, closed the door. “We all be starvin’…dey come an take it’all.”_

_“Dey are just tryin’ to live too, mum.”_

_“And why should they all live ‘ere? Go home, I tell ye,” she stirred the pot, muttering._

_And little Freddy, who was but seven, didn't understand why everyone was so angry at the “Jews,” the “Poles,” and loads of other people he didn't know. How could you be angry at people you didn't know?_

 

* * *

 

September 1st, 1888. London.

She was dreadfully close, he could see her eyes shining in the darkened shop. “Leather Apron?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she replied in a hush. “There is a man, mad, most likely…he wears a leather apron and he frightens the ladies at night. I know who he is, and I know that he is innocent.”

“ _You_ know who he is?” replied Loki, somewhat doubtfully. “How do you know…?”

Jane sat back in her chair. “He would come here…John Pizer. He would ask for medicine for his mother, but I think it was for him and his hysteria. He hasn't been here since the winter, but he hasn't a viscous bone in his body.”

“So…based on your astute character sketch, there is no possible way he can be a murderer? Is he insane or not?”

Jane nodded. “But…”

“But what? Perhaps he should be questioned! Perhaps he needs some help, even if he isn't the murderer. Really Jane, is it wise to discount anyone at this juncture?”

She folded her arms across her chest. “No, but…”

“Then I say that is one less person we need to investigate. Cross one off the list,” he smiled. “I’d say this is a stroke of luck. We have, what…ten thousand possible suspects? One less is most assuredly a positive.”

“But he didn't do it! It’s a waste of time. Time we could use discovering the real villain.”

“Jane, listen to reason. If I am going to aid you in this, we need to work alongside the police, not against them. We are helping the investigation, not launching our own.”

“Loki…look. I appreciate you helping me, but I don’t think that you fully understand just how dire this situation is. Every hour wasted on interviewing obviously innocent suspects is an hour the culprit walks free, planning his next victim.”

“What is your suggestion?” he stood and went to the counter. “Shall we waltz into Scotland Yard and demand that they cease questioning this ‘Iron Apron’ fellow?“

“…Leather Apron.”

“…I can see it now,” Loki continued, ignoring Jane. “Oh, stop questioning this chap, detective inspector. Jane and I here are absolutely certain of his innocence, for he purchased some salts from her apothecary shop six months ago,” he smiled widely. “In fact, let us exonerate every one of Jane’s clientele, for none who darken her doorstep could ever comment a crime. Her goodness simply oozes from her being, touching all within close proximity of her.”

“Shut up, Loki,” she said, but laughed. “Very well. Your point is well made. So. What are your thoughts?”

He considered her a moment. What were his thoughts? Well…he thought that if he offered her what was _really_ on his mind, Jane wouldn't be terribly receptive. He lowered his gaze and cleared his throat. “I imagine the first thing that we need to do is determine a motive. Why is this person targeting prostitutes? What is the nature of his psychosis?”

Jane nodded…she had been so preoccupied with the who, she hadn’t really considered the why. But the why was likely the more important question…for the why would probably lead them to the “who.” “Anger?” as she stood. “Erm…sexual frustration?”

“But was it sexual? There wasn't any word of such violence committed.”

Jane shook her head. “No,” she choked. “No…they said that she had been torn up the…middle…” she swallowed. “That her innards were spilt about…”

He shifted, taking keen note of her demeanor, and hardly ignorant of his own. “Let’s have a walk, Jane.”

She nodded in a bit of a stupor. She hadn’t really thought about what had happened to Mary Ann Nichols…to say it out loud…it made it real…gave it a frame of reference…a picture. A horrific picture. She locked the shop up for a bit. No one was coming to the apothecary anyway, they were all either at home, fearful of the streets, at the pub gossiping, or at Buck’s Row, hanging about.

The pair walked along for a few minutes, not speaking, deep in thought. Finally, Loki spoke. “There will need to be unpleasant things discussed between the two of us if we are to make a success of this.”

“I understand that.”

“Given the nature of these tragedies, I think it particularly apt that we come to an understanding now about it, for it is not something ordinarily explored between a man and a woman,” he paused. “That is, between an unmarried man and woman.”

“No,” she replied.

“But…we are friends, and have known one another for some time.”

“Yes.”

“Jane?”

“Hm?” she was staring at the stones in the ground as she walked along.

“Are you paying attention?”

“Of course. You said that we aren’t married, obviously. You said we are friends, equally obvious, and that we will need to talk about unpleasant things if we are to make a success of this endeavor,” she looked up at him now and smiled. “Is that a succinct description?”

“Thank you, yes,” he returned her smile. “So let us treat the subject matter with as little emotion as possible. I think that is best. You are mixing your salts and herbs…I am tending to my ledgers.”

“Right…” but she was looking down the road a bit. She quickened her pace.

“Jane…?” Loki followed her.

“Inspector Selvig!” she called.

And Erik stopped and turned. Ah yes…the lady from just a few hours ago. He smiled at her. “Hello, Miss…?”  

“Foster,” she breathed as she reached him. “Jane is fine.”

He nodded, then noticed Loki right behind her. “Ah…and this is Mr Foster, I assume?”

Loki glared at him a moment. “Mr Odinson, if you please. We are not married.”

“Ah, well. Who am I to judge?”

Jane laughed. “Loki is a friend…”

Erik nodded dramatically. “I see that.”

“See here, Detective…”  

“Loki,” she touched his arm and smiled, shaking her head. She cleared her throat. “Erm…I understand that Scotland Yard has someone in mind for questioning.”

“Hm…yes…” he paused. “Why?” he recalled that the lady here had said that she knew things…

“Because…I think that…” and she was nudged from behind. She turned to see Loki smiling at her. “That is…what do you know of the man in question?” She looked at Loki with a Was that acceptable look. He nodded covertly.

“He is supposedly foreign. They say he is known as ‘Leather Apron’ or some such nonsense.”

‘That’s all?”

“All I know of.”

Jane nodded. “The man you seek’s name is John Pizer.”

Erik Selvig looked at her. “Is that so?”

“Mm, yes. You’ll find him around Thrawl Street. That’s where he lives, though I’m unsure of the exact address,” she smiled.

“Well…Thank’ee kindly, Miss Foster,” and he turned to leave.

“Inspector Selvig!” she called. He turned, and Jane walked up close to him. “I’ll be happy to continue this relationship throughout the investigation, as long as you promise not to reveal me nor my friend Loki’s identity…”

“All right…”

“I own the apothecary. Loki owns the bookshop. Both in Spitalfields Market. Please stop by every morning before ten am at one of the two. Since it is only a five minute walk, I doubt that it should be much trouble, if we aren’t at one, to walk to the other,” she paused. “And I hope that you’ll be sharing what information you have, too.”

“Yes, Miss…I thank you…I’ll certainly be calling.” Jane turned to Loki.

He was smiling at her. “You are an astounding creature, Jane Foster.”

“See? And you had your doubts…” she sauntered away from him, his eyes on her back.

And Loki swallowed. The pair began to walk toward the market.

“So you’ve given the police their golden apron…”

“Leather Apron!” she hissed.

“…now what do you propose? Wait it out a bit?”

“No,” she replied. “Tonight, we go out and ask questions.”

“Questions?” “That’s right. I’ll pose as a prostitute. You cover me,” they entered the apothecary.

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll be the prostitute. You can be a customer.”

“Jane.”

She opened the windows. She breathed in the scents of London and felt ill. Jane turned and smiled after she recovered and regained her color. “Now, I think that I could probably find some suitable clothes…they just keep a low neckline. Everything else is pretty much the same. As for the rouge and such, that may be a bit more difficult,” she went to the back of the store and he heard her rummaging through things.

“Jane,” he said again.

She emerged with a tin. “Is this acceptable, do you think?” and she handed him the tin.

Loki looked at her, flummoxed. “Jane Foster, listen to yourself! Rouge?!”

“What? Is this not right?” she looked at the tin she handed him.

“I don’t give a damn if it’s right or not. You are not going to pose as some prostitute.”

Jane looked at him incredulously. “All right, Loki. What is your suggestion?”

“Well…” he cleared his throat. “I think that perhaps we could go to the Princess Alice. That is where Mary Ann Nichols was last reported being seen, according to Fandral.”

“And that is where John Pizer goes!” she paused. “…and where he sometimes threatens the ladies.”

Loki eyed her suspiciously. “Hm. ‘Threatens,’ does he? I thought that you said that he was innocent.”

“I mean…he is mad. I never said that he wasn’t,” she took out per pestle.

“Just how well do you know this Pizer?”

“What are you suggesting?” she responded with heat.

“Only that there might be more to him than the occasional salt intake and the donning of a bronze apron.”

“Leather!” Jane rounded on him, then saw some ladies enter, giving her a sidelong glance. “Morning,” Jane called. She looked at Loki, who was smirking. “Look. How about I come up to your shop after I close here. We can continue this later.”

“I await your arrival with bated breath,” he covered his heart with his hand, his face with a wider smirk.

“Oh good. Just be certain not to breathe until I get there. Then I’ll know you really care.”

“Jane…you think so little of me that you would deny the very breath of life?” he began to leave, nodding to her costumers on his way.

“No…I merely require proof of your adoration. I should be your air and only sustenance. Your commitment to our friendship depends upon it.”

He laughed at her. “Jane, I could sooner prove my adoration than catch a villain.”

“Humph,” as she stood in the doorway as he walked out. “I should find another detective,” she smiled. “But rest assured I adore you, Loki. Now get out of my shop,” she turned back in to attend to her customers.

Loki stood a moment. Then turned. She _adored_ him? As a friend, surely. Yes. That was what she meant.

Loki walked back to Asgard, a very, very slight spring in his step.

“Fandral!” he said. “Lovely morning, is it not?”

“What’s going on?” Fandral eyed him closely.

“What are you on about, my man? ‘On’?” he poured some brew.

“There was another murder, and you think it a ‘lovely morning?’”

“Well, not so lovely for the victim or her family, I imagine.”

“Don’t let Jane hear you speak thus. She’ll never talk to you again,” and he turned back to the book he was reading at the counter.

“Oh please, Fandral. The woman simply _adores_ me,” and he went to pretend to see to his ledgers. Fandral rolled his eyes and turned a page.

* * *

 

Loki was nervous. He didn't like this whole scheme Jane had concocted, though he admittedly was having a time attempting to think of another suitable one.

Fandral had left for the day; the shop dreadfully quiet.

He went out into the shop itself and began to fidget with the books when he heard the door open.

“Evenin’ guvna. Lookin’ fer a date?” came a harsh cockney accent.

Loki turned and saw Jane Foster standing in the doorway, the front door just closed behind her.

“Jane?” he went over to her.

The woman in question smiled. “How do I look?” She cleared her throat. “I mean. ‘ow do I be lookin’?”

He glanced up and down…her hair was a bit mussed. Her neckline plunged…he quickly looked up again…there was a lot of rouge on her face, and she had done something with her eyes and lips…”Well. Very nice. If I was looking for a date, as you suggested. Though I must say, I prefer you the other way.”

“That’s not the point, is it?” Jane replied. “Though I thank’ee… you don't offer compliments often.”

He nodded. “So…care to alert me to the plan?”

“Well…we go to the Princess Alice. We have some ale. We pretend to be exchanging an agreement, all the while listening to the conversation. Then we leave…shouldn’t be more than a hour of our time.”

“And your father…”

“If he's there, I’ll be right cross. He needs his rest,” she smiled.

“Jane! I was referring to the fact that he might be concerned that you aren’t at home.”

“He knows I’ll be late. I went home at luncheon to tell him not to worry,” she mussed her hair once more.

Loki swallowed. He took off his necktie, undid a few buttons on his shirt. Took off his suit jacket and put on his overcoat. Mussed his own black hair…he kept it longer than most men in London, and didn't sport the burnsides they all did. He seemed to prefer a more crisp look on his face. He thought he might need to rethink that if he was to continue this. “Well, Jane…” he turned to find her looking at him in an odd way. “Jane?”

She snapped from wherever she was. “Yes? Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Look. If you are not well, or unsure…we can rethink this.”

“Nonsense!” she exclaimed. “I’m perfectly well.”

He nodded. “Shall we?” he opened the door for her. Jane nodded, and entered London’s night, heavy with scent, thick with heat, and foreboding in atmosphere.


	6. Princess Alice's Tonic

**Princess Alice’s Tonic**

The Princess Alice was a bit run down in nature, her clientele the same. It was no secret what they all were doing there. In fact, it was assumed that was your design upon entering. There were mutterings in the pub that night about the “Leather Apron” and just where he was.

Most of the men there knew that the ladies tended to err on the side of he’s-a-maniac-murderer…the men on he’s-a-nutter-with-a-knife. Either way, the talk was primarily about this Apron chap (no one really cared about his real name, few even knew for certain what it was), and there was a decided air of unease about Alice.

“Jus don't know, do we?” the tender was asking Miss Marsh.

“Nah. But ‘e is a gruesome thing, ain’t ‘e now?”

“Miss Kelly over yonder, she saw ‘im just de other day. In a right state, ‘e was.”

“Ya mean Mary Kelly?”

“Der, ‘er just der,” and the tender pointed out the lady.

Miss Marsh looked over and saw her talking to a man, genteel in appearance. “‘o’s that she’s talkin’ to?”

The keep looked at the man in question. “Dunno,” he studied him more closely. “‘ang on then. I think…that’s that fellow ‘o works at dat book shop…”

“Not in Spitalfields Market?”  

“Yeah,” and tender turned back to Miss Marsh. “I think so.”

* * *

 

“Jane, hang on. We need to think this over,” Loki took her arm. “We cannot simply walk in. It’ll be suspicious if we do. One should go in, the other follow a few minutes later,” he pulled her toward an alley, falling into darkness.

Jane sighed. “Oh all right. I’ll wait…”

“I’ll wait,” he said with her simultaneously. He looked at her and rolled his eyes. “Think for a moment here. It isn't safe for you to be hanging about looking like you do, out on the street.”

“Like I do?” she put her hands on her hips.

Loki crossed his arms and cocked a brow. “Well, if I were you, I’d take that as a compliment. Isn’t your purpose here to appear like a prostitute?”

“Oh,” she blushed. “Right. Sorry.”

  He nodded. “What’s more, we really ought to have a plan…some boundaries set…that sort of thing, before I solicit you for sexual favors.”

Jane giggled. “All right. I ought to be more grateful to you, Loki. You are quite the partner.”

He swallowed. “Very well now, let’s not get sentimental. I’d rather you not get your throat slashed,” he paused. “Now. You go in the pub, go to the far end of the bar and order yourself an ale or some such thing. I’ll follow behind a few minutes later, and situate myself at the close end. We can both be on the lookout that way, covertly listening from all angles. I imagine we are also attempting to gage any suspicious actors in the pub, so there’s that. Anyone bothers you, tip me off by coughing three times. Anyone suspicious whom you wish to investigate, walk by me and hand me your handkerchief,” he paused. “Have you such an item?”

Jane nodded, a bit of an awestruck look about her.

“What?” noticing her gaze.

“Well, you have this all figured, don't you?”

He chuckled. “We cannot simply go into the Princess Alice pub and ask if anyone has murdered any prostitutes lately, can we?”

“No,” and she laughed heartily.

“Just so. After you hand me your kerchief, I’ll follow you to the closest empty table, or whatever other place you decide is safe for us to speak. Now, I do not think that we should linger for more than say, three quarters of an hour. After such a time has passed, and nothing suspicious has hopefully occurred, I’ll join you at the end the bar, and…erm…” he suddenly appeared to be anxious, shoved his hands in his pockets. “How should I…go about soliciting…” he laughed a touch. “…you?”

Jane laughed a bit, too. “Why don't we just play it by ear? You can approach me, perhaps get behind me a bit, whisper in my ear that we should leave, or whatever else you think prudent.”

 _Whatever else I think prudent_ …”Very well,” he paused. “So…you’ll go in, I’ll follow monetarily.”

Jane nodded, adjusted her bosom (Loki swallowed and looked at the ground hurriedly), pinched her cheeks, and walked over to the Princess Alice. Jane opened the door and was immediately struck by the close air pressing against her. The place was morbidly full…she hadn’t been expecting that.

Of course, she there was a lot that hadn’t been, apparently. Thank the Lord God for Loki. He really had thought of every possibility.

She smiled to herself at this thought, then went over to the far end of the bar as they discussed. She ordered a pint, then sat at a high-ish chair. It was much more difficult to really hear anything being said, it was so loud. She thought that she might need to walk around a bit.

“Jane?” She froze. She and Loki hadn’t discussed aliases, and it wouldn't do to simply go by their proper names. She should play it off, pretend like she doesn’t know who this “Jane” is. The tender brought her drink, and she sipped, then turned.

And she choked. “Fandral!”

And said clerk was there, and he was with a very lovely young lady. “Jane…what on earth…?”

Jane took his arm, hushed him, then pulled him over to a table. “I’m…investigating…”

“Oh!” he exclaimed. He then looked around…”Is Loki…”

“Sh! Keep your voice down! We are incognito…”

And he looked at her, then began to chuckle. “Oh…where is he…I need to see this…” he looked about…

“Fandral, please. This is serious,” and she smiled at his companion.

“Oh. Apologies, Jane…this is Mary Kelly. I’ve known her for over a year now,” he turned to the young Miss Kelly. “This is Jane…” he stopped. “Well, Jane, at any rate.”

“Pleasure,” said Mary with a thick welsh accent.

Jane nodded, smiling, then… “Say…Fandral. Perhaps you might help us. Have you heard anything about John Pizer? Or Mary Nichols?”

“Can’t say as I have. You, Mary?”

“Aye, I ‘ave. Leather Apron was over yonder, jus a week ago now. Sportin’ ‘is knife,” she pointed to the back of the pub. “Sayin’ ‘e’d cut me up if I took too near ‘im.”

Jane sighed. “Thank’ee Mary,” then she saw Loki enter. “Look, Fandral. You and your…” she eyed Mary a bit suspiciously, “…friend..ought to get going. Loki is here now, and we have a plan of action…”

“Is that so?” he laughed and turned to look at the entrance…it took him a moment of scanning the place; but he found him, at the far end of the bar, near the door. “Well, Mary. Perhaps we should be on our way,” he smiled. “Jane,” and he nodded.

Jane smiled then went back to the bar. She wouldn't hazard a glance toward Loki…too risky. And the ale was just awful. She could barely stomach it…she was used to a much better brew. Don't be such a snob, Jane, she scolded herself.

She heard Mary’s thick accent from her end of the bar, glanced up, and saw her talking to Loki. She witnessed Mary’s hand on his chest…and something welled a bit in her throat. Her eyes snapped away.

She swallowed…

 _What was that_.

She shook her head, then heard Mary’s voice receding…they must have left. Jane took a steadying breath. Concentrate, Jane.

Voices of many types and cadence then filled her ears.

_“Everyone’s in a right state.”_

_“No one feels safe.”_

_“Too many foreigners.”_

_“They say he’s mad, whoever he is.”_

_“Old Leather Apron is mad.”_

_“Lotsa Jews and Poles about.”_

She sat there, sipping, listening as hard as she could…

“Well now, ain’t you a pretty thing?” a man with thick burnsides, ginger in color, short and a bit stout, sat next to her. She hadn’t even noticed that there was an empty seat to her left.

She looked at him. “I ain’t interested,” she said in her best cockney.

“Now, don’t you be a snob, Mary.”

“My name isn’t Mary.”

“You talk pretty genteel…I like that,” he added, touching her leg.

Blast. Jane took out her handkerchief, and went to stand. But the man prevented her movement, and she was kept at the chair.

“Unhand me this instant,” she spat.

The short ginger man turned to face her, then pulled Jane close, wrapping her legs around his torso.

He bent his face toward her ear…”Now listen ‘ere, Miss Mary, if ye don’t stop yer fuss, ye won’t be seein’ toppens fer me trouble…”

“Your trouble,” she breathed…his hideous breath was like liquid falling down her back. She squirmed as he began to lick her neck, then kneed him in the crotch.

He shouted, then slapped her face. She saw lights popping everywhere, and she felt as though her eye would explode.

And before Jane knew what was happening, he was gone, there was a loud crash, and she was being dragged from her chair. …and out into the night as loud yelling and screams followed them in their wake…

Loki was pulling her into the alley where they had concocted their plan. He was breathing hard. She thought that he was going to stop, but he didn’t…they were walking toward the Market.

And he wasn't speaking.

“Loki…”

“Sh!” he hissed.

She clamped her mouth shut. She supposed she had made a right mess of things. She had endangered herself and Loki, all the while, he was trying to help those women. And her. She would need a better plan.

As she regained her senses, she realized that they were at “Foster’s Apothecary and Finery.”

“Where is the key?” Loki asked calmly.

Jane looked up, and saw that he was scanning the surrounding area, probably looking to see if they had been followed.

She swallowed, then reached into her small bag tied to her belt, and retrieved the key in question, handing it to Loki. “I’m sorry…”she began.

“Hush now,” he opened the door and followed her inside, closing the door and locking it. “Sit down.”

Without looking at her, he went to the cabinet, and procured some salve for her face. He went out back to the barrel for some water, then took note of his shaking hands. He grabbed onto the lip of the barrel to steady himself, and in the moonlight, noticed that his knuckles were bruised. Loki quickly rubbed them on the side of his pants, dismissing it. How could he have lost his temper! He nearly ruined everything…Odin was right. He was careless, hardly able to care for anything besides a failing bookshop in a grim neighborhood.

But he thought that Jane should have coughed. That was her signal. It is unfortunate that she should forget at such a moment. There. A bit exonerated.

He squeezed the rag, then went inside, his hands decidedly more steady.

He found Jane sitting in the darkness, head down, as though shamed.

Loki lit a small candle so that they weren't in complete darkness, and took the rag and the salve to Jane. He pulled the other chair over to her. “Here…allow me,” he sponged her cheek, already purpling with bruise. “You should have coughed,” he chided, but smiled softly.

Jane looked up at him, eyes wet with tears. “Oh, Loki. I’m so sorry! I’ve ruined everything…everything. And now…now he gets away. He does it again! And we could have…no. Should have been able to stop him, if I wasn't such a ninny…”

He placed a finger to her lips. “Cease your prattle, Jane Foster.” and he took his finger away.

She nodded, swallowed. “I am sorry, though. And I thank'ee for stopping that man.”

“What happened?” he took the rag away, and opening the salve, began applying it to her cheek where said man had struck her.

“It happened very quickly. He propositioned me, I refused…and then…” she recalled the scene slowly. “What did you do to him?”

He smirked, and pulled his fingers away from her injury. “I pulled him from his seat, punched him in the face, and threw him to the floor,” and he closed the lid, set it beside him, exhaled long through his nose, and looked at Jane.

“My goodness, Loki,” she breathed. “You are a brute,” but she was smiling. “Am I quite safe around you?”

“Only if you do not cross me, Miss Foster.” She laughed, then took notice of his hand. “Is that from hitting that knave?”

He shrugged. “It’s nothing. Not really,” he tried to take his hand away.

“Oh shut up and let me see…” and she took his hand forcefully.

“I’m not accustomed to pub brawls, Jane. I am a refined man, with a refined nature. If you insist on getting yourself into trouble, I might need to insist that I carry on alone,” he smiled.

Her gaze snapped to his as she picked up the discarded rag. “Carry on? You mean…you…”

“Yes?” “You…wish to continue?”

“Why shouldn't I?” he was watching her intently. She was a lovely woman…he swallowed…he would need to check himself. Idle attraction notwithstanding, she was his friend only. He would not jeopardize this friendship.

Unless she allowed it…and a shadow of a grin passed his visage.

“Well…your partner is obviously lacking in some very important traits,” and Jane took the salve and opened it, gingerly placing some on his knuckles.

He cringed, for it hurt. But he also felt himself tense, for she was so close to him now. “I suppose I could overlook her many failings if she agreed to talk about this at greater length with a proper plan in place.”

Jane looked up at him, smiled, then closed the salve and taking his hand in her, lifted it to her lips; she blew softly on the injured part. “There. That’ll do,” she got up and put the things away. “Well, now that I’ve mucked it all up, what do you propose we do to begin again?”

“Did you hear anything tonight, Jane?” he snapped himself out of the trance set by her ministrations…

“Well…just that people are afraid. That there are plenty of foreigners about…” she leaned on the wooden counter.

He looked at her and rose from the chair. “Mary Kelly…that lady with Fandral…”

And she stood a bit erect, recalling how Mary Kelly had touched Loki’s chest…”Mmhm. Yes. We were introduced.”

“Quite,” he walked over and leaned on the other side of the counter. “She was a bit preoccupied with John Pizer…but she mentioned something else in passing…”

“What?” Jane walked a bit toward him, the soft light of the single candle flickering in the pitch, illuminating Loki’s features in an eerie way.

“She said that there was talk of an American scientist in London about two months ago…he was talking about an experiment which required recently removed organs…”

Jane swallowed.

“From what I could gather from the little Mary was able to convey, this scientist was willing to pay a very great deal of money. And that a few people from Whitechapel had heard of this…”

“Are you saying…?”

“I’m not certain. There hasn't been any indication that organs have been removed, but Mary Nichols…Fandral said, was not quite dead when she was discovered…”

“Good lord,” Jane whispered.

“…the villain could have been scared off.”

Jane felt faint. She wasn't certain which was worse…a lunatic running amok with a vendetta against prostitutes, or this. A madman in search of human organs…

…this. This was worse. For her father was at risk…Jane was at risk…Loki was at risk…she looked at him. “Heaven help us,” she muttered, and wrapped her arms around him.

Loki was taken aback, but placed his right hand on the back of her head, his left around her waist. “Now, Jane. Take care. We don’t know if this is the motive…”

She felt the way his chest rumbled as he spoke, and she felt suddenly quite safe. She smiled, and pulled away. “No…but what if that is? It would be awful,” she stepped back, suddenly keenly aware of how close she was. “How does Mary know this?”

He swallowed and took a very deep breath. “Well, talk. She listens…and enjoys a healthy business. She is very pretty,” he added matter-of-factly.

Her back was up once more. “She is pretty enough.”

“Come Jane, she is lovely.”

“Humph,” and she put the chairs away. “If you are so inclined, I’m certain that she could offer you her services at a reduced rate, being Fandral’s employer.”

He smiled, though she did not see it. “And why would I do that…?”

“Well…since she is so _lovely_ …”

It was then that they heard the voices outside of the shop.

Jane’s eyes snapped to Loki’s, he placed a finger to his lips and extinguished the candle with his fingers.

The pair stepped softly to the door, and placed their ears to it; Jane was nervous, her heart beating fast with fear; Loki was nervous, his heart beating fast do to Jane being pressed up next to him.

“And ‘o be ye lookin’ fer, govna?”

“I told you, her name is Mary Kelly…” the man had a foreign accent…though it was difficult to place, they sounded far away.

Jane’s intake of breath was sharp…Loki placed his hand over her mouth, pulling her close.

“I don’ be knowin’ no Kelly. What’s more, der is abou’ five tousan’ girls ‘ere. Mary is a name ye’ll ‘ear.”

“Well, if you hear of her, do tell me…”

“An why would I be doin’ dat?”

Coins could be heard… “Ah…right ye are, govna. I’ll be sure ta let ye know.”

And their voices faded, and Loki let her go.

They both relaxed…Jane turned toward Loki, and though the shop was nearly pitch, he could discern the whites of her eyes, blown wide.

“Mary,” she whispered.


	7. September 2-8

**September 2nd-8th**

Fandral Adamson was a very handsome man.

He knew this, and he occasionally abused it. That isn't to say that he was improper in any way. Nor that he was not a gentleman. He was…he was just…well…as he might put it, “Well versed in all things dealing with love.”

When he met the Welsh immigrant Mary Kelly, he was taken pretty quickly. She was lovely, and he approached her for a business transaction.

She obliged him.

But it soon became obvious to Fandral that Mary was a bit green when it came to worldly knowledge.

She sold herself, yes…but she was frank and a bit innocent and naive. That isn't to say that she thought that these men were in love with her, no. Well, a few, perhaps. But more, that none would ever harm her.

That there was some genuine care for her well being. That Mary wasn't simply a commodity, but a person. Fandral saw that, and he pitied her.

The men who sought her were not interested in anything but sexual release. Sometimes they desired a feeling of dominant control when their lives were so out of control. But they didn't give a toss for Mary Kelly nor any other woman walking the streets for her doss.

So, he kept an eye on her. He would interview the men whom she would take up with, different from her “customers,” and occasionally interfere when he thought he was needed.

She was like a little sister to him, he told himself. He would meet with her at various pubs once or twice a week, depending.

She would tell him stories, of which she knew a few, and he would listen and offer some advice if she asked.

Fandral himself was an only child, his father long gone, mother well kept by another man. They lived rather comfortably away from London’s East End…not far from Loki’s own flat. Fandral despised the place, but he knew that he couldn't afford lodging on his own, so he suffered silently knowing that he was, in fact, quite fortunate.

He enjoyed staying away from the area just east of Covent Garden where his mother lived for as long as possible; this meant, of course, that he kept late hours in Whitechapel by the shop.

He developed a bit of a reputation, that is, that he was a snob.

He was.

He wouldn't hire the services of just any lady.

He was educated, and he understood what many in London didn’t: promiscuity was dangerous, and could be deadly.

But he cared for Mary Kelly, more than he cared for most people.

He hid this fact from everyone who didn't need to know it. He hid, also, that he was in love with her…

* * *

 

Loki looked at Jane in the obscured darkness of the shop.

He looked at the door, placed his palms on it, then nodded. They had left.

Jane felt light headed…she went to the chair and sat once more.

“Loki…” she whispered.

He leaned against the closed door. “Now, we mustn't rush to conclusions, Jane. There is nothing to lead us to believe that they were speaking of the Mary Kelly we met this evening.”

“No,” she replied. “But nothing to dissuade it, either. You said yourself that she hears loads of things,” Jane looked at him.

“Look,” and he went over to her. “We mustn't work ourselves up. Keep a calm mind. I’ll let Fandral know tomorrow what we overheard. We can work from there,” he ran his hand through his hair and sat down.

Jane looked at him, shirt still undone, no tie, overcoat discarded…hair a mess. He looked the part, almost. He could surely be a convincing day laborer, he was bright enough to pull it off.

“We need to go out again…but not tomorrow…” she paused. “I mean, tonight. Let’s wait a bit and come up with some false identities. Get into character. Make up a story…either separate or married…and I think that then we can really get some information.”

Loki looked at her crookedly. “Concoct some identities…?” he exhaled. “Very well,” he rose. “Allow me to see you home,” he held his hand to her.

Jane took it and smiled, then began putting the chair back, closed the back door and locked it. She went to Loki and nodded, and they left with a click of the door and a turn of the key.

* * *

 

The streets were mostly deserted now, everyone had made their transactions, and were either seeing it though in an alley, pressed against a wall, or at one of the sleep houses. Only a stray older prostitute could be seen, a few workers who kept very late hours, and Jane and Loki.

The bell chimed out…two am. It had been a very long night. And Jane had to be at the shop again in six hours. “Maybe I’ll open late this morning,” she observed, hoping that her father was long asleep.

“It is a pity that our apothecary thinks so little of her clientele that she would place her own silly pursuits ahead of their many maladies,” Loki observed with a smirk.

“Silly pursuits my eye,” she spat, smiling. “But in all seriousness, Loki…what time do you open ordinarily?”

“Mm…Fandral is expected by eight thirty.”

Jane nodded, then sighed. “Well, I’ll do my best, but if I’m not there by eight thirty, might you put a sign on the door? Say I’ll be opening by luncheon?”

“Why not take the day, Jane?”

“The day! Because, unlike you, I have no wealthy parents to pay for my meat, and I have an ailing father to tend to.”

Loki shrugged, and they walked in silence until Algate and Jane’s street. He walked her to her steps. Jane smoothed out her skirts, and looked up at Loki. “Thank’ee, my friend. You are truly a gentleman.”

“Am I? I had heard that I was a knave in gentleman’s attire,” Jane had called him that many months previous during one of their more silly arguments.

“Well, whoever said that is a fool,” knowing full well she had uttered that statement.

“No, not a fool…” he smiled. Then cleared his throat. “Well, shall I call on the shop tomorrow afternoon, then? We can discuss this more at length.”

Jane nodded, then suddenly struck, stood on tiptoe and pecked his cheek. “Evening, Loki,” and she turned and went up the stairs to her house.

Loki turned, then placed his fingers where she had kissed him. …and the middle of the night was suddenly as bright as midday.

* * *

 

Loki entered Asgard at seven thirty the following morning.

He set about readying the shop and such, when he heard the bell and Fandral enter.

“Fandral, come to the back, please,” he called. He sat behind his desk.

This wasn't anything that would normally give him pause, but the situation presenting in Whitechapel was so very dire that everything appeared to be a concern.

He was turning soft. He cleared his throat and motioned for Fandral to sit.

“Am I being sacked?” he asked as he sat down.

“Pardon?”

“Well…you never ask me back here. You saw me with a prostitute last evening…”

“No! Of course not,” Loki sat back shaking his head. He steepled his fingers under his chin and eyed Fandral long…

He shifted. “Erm…Loki…? What is this about?”

His hands fell to the desk. “Listen, Fandral…I’m not certain how to go about this, so I’ll just be blunt.”

“Good lord man, what happened to your hand?!”

Loki followed his gaze…ah. He hadn’t wrapped his knuckles. Quickly he put his hands on his lap. “Ah. Nothing…”

“Shut up…” Fandral snapped his gaze to Loki’s face. “Were you in a brawl…? In a pub fight?” he sounded almost excited.

“Hardly,” he dismissed.

“No! You were! Oh lord I wish I hadn’t left so abruptly. You in a fight!”

“I can defend myself, you know, Fandral,” and Loki stood.

“But oh! What a sight it must have been! What did Jane say? Did she laugh? Or scold you?”

“She said nothing, as her face was smarting from the fellow who struck her,” he stated with heat.

Fandral’s mouth hung agape.

“Shut your mouth, man. You look like a codfish,” and he turned away and poured some brew for himself and Fandral.

“You!” he whispered, taking the proffered mug. “You…defended her!”  

“And why is that shocking?” he sipped.

“It isn’t. That’s why I’m shocked.”

“You are speaking in riddles, Fandral. Finish your brew so you might regain your sensibilities,” and he sat.

“But…but…what happened?” he was all wide-eyed and taut with anticipation.

Loki sighed. “Some miscreant attempted to solicit Jane for favors, she turned him down, he grabbed at her, she kneed him, he slapped her, I went over and punched him in the face and threw him to the floor,” he paused. “Happy?”

Fandral was shaking his head slowly. “I wish I would have seen that,” his face betrayed a faraway look as he whispered. “So…she loves you now, I’m sure,” he sat back, pleased with his observation.

“What the devil are you on about? She loves me? Because I punched a prat?”

“Because you rescued her!” he exclaimed.

“Fandral, you have read too many fairy tales. That doesn’t happen in real life. Perhaps you should go home and have a lie down. You are obviously unwell.”

“Humph,” he crossed his arms after he put the mug down. “You got a kiss, though, right?”

Loki stared at him.

“Tell me you got a kiss!”

Nothing.

“You know, I should tutor you. Obviously you have no idea how this whole thing works…”

“She gave me a kiss on the cheek,” Loki muttered, gaze falling.

“That’s all?” And now he glared at him.

“I’ll thank ye for your fierce concern over my relationship with our apothecary, but I assure you, I wouldn't want to jeopardize the friendship I enjoy with her as a result of any interference from you and your questionable expertise.”

“If it were me, she would have melted in my arms,” he muttered.

“Has it occurred to you that I do not wish to have her, as you say, ‘melt in my arms’?”

“No,” he stated simply. Loki rolled his eyes, exasperated beyond words. “We are dreadfully off topic, here, Fandral. I asked you back here for a very specific purpose.”

Fandral raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”

He cleared his throat. “Last evening, Jane and I were at her shop…we heard some people speaking in hushed tones on the road just here. One was a foreigner, but able to speak English well enough. It was impossible to discern just what his accent was…” he stopped a moment. “At any rate, the fellow was looking for a Mary Kelly.”

Nothing.

“Fandral?”

“Yes?”  

“Did you hear me?” 

“I did. But I really have nothing to say on the matter.”

“No? It appeared that you rather cared for Miss Kelly.”

He shrugged, attempting to convey indifference. “There are plenty of blokes about who seek Mary out. This is unsurprising. But, if you think it wise, I can alert her to be wary of foreign men.”

Loki was a bit taken aback by his apparent disinterest. “Well. Very good. Yes,” he shifted. “That is all, Fandral.” He nodded, then rose.

“Will you be here all day, or do you plan on calling on Jane?”

“Why?” he looked at him critically. “No reason.”

  Loki looked down at his desk and shuffled some things about. “I’ll be leaving the shop here around four to go to the apothecary.”

Fandral nodded, then left. He would close the shop at five so that he might get to Mary in time.

* * *

 

Jane was speaking with Mrs. Smith, attempting to calm her nerves.

Mr. Smith had taken to the drink again, and she was worried about his keeping long hours in Whitechapel. Jane was assuaging these notions, but was enjoying little success.

“Mrs. Smith, do take care. He is in no danger,” Jane whispered kindly…but in her heart, she knew it to be a falsehood.

“Oh, Miss Jane…’tis all a tither. Mr. Smith keeps ‘is ‘ours…’an I stay at me ‘ouse…’e’s off at de pub, spendin’ our rent…”

“Talk to your landlord,” she replied, putting her things away. “He’ll make arrangements.”

“No, ‘e won’t,” she sobbed.

Mrs. Smith appeared to be well into her forty’s, but she was just a few years older than Jane…maybe thirty five. Jane was torn…should she hurry her out, for Loki would surely be arriving shortly, or should she listen to her some more?…though admittedly, she wasn't certain just how much longer she could tolerate her, and she felt guilty.

“Mrs. Smith, I am sorry, but I was planning on closing up a bit early tonight,” she smiled sweetly. “

Oh! And you opened late! Mus’ be nice, Miss Jane,” she stood and went to the door, a smug look about her.

Jane coughed, then followed her. “Have a good evening,” she closed the door behind her. She sighed, then quickly turned to begin locking the windows and such.

There was a knock at the door…Jane looked to see what Mrs. Smith had left behind. “I don't see anything here, Mrs. Smith…” she said, opening the door.

“Well, I know that I don't sport the burnsides which are so popular as of late, but I hope that that doesn’t nullify my masculinity,” Loki said, brushing passed Jane into the dimly lit shop.

“Loki! I thought that you were…” she closed the door.

“Mrs. Smith. I gathered that,” he smiled. “Here, I brought some bread and cheese,” he handed her a paper bag. Jane smiled widely at him.

”Thank you,” she breathed. She was positively starving.

“Now, Jane. It’s only some bread…I haven’t brought you a Christmas goose with trimmings.”

“No…but I am starving. Haven’t eaten all day.”

“You’ll be wise to take care of yourself, Jane Foster. The people of Whitechapel depend upon your good health,” and he began to cut up the breads and cheeses for their enjoyment at the counter.

Jane, meanwhile, after procuring some plates and tea cups, sat down and wiped her brow. “Tea’s on in the back.”

He nodded, handed her a plate, and went to get the tea. He arrived back with two steaming cups, and handed her one, smiling. “You’ll feel yourself in a moment, dear.”

Jane looked at him crookedly. “

"Dear’? What’s that about?”

“Well, you are dear to me, my friend,” he took a bite of bread, and sat down across from her.

Jane nodded, and wanting to change the subject, said, “I’ve always liked the name Clara.”

“Indeed?”

“Mm. Yes. And you look rather like a ‘Tom’.”

“Hideous name.”

Jane looked at him. “What’s wrong with that?”

“‘Tom’?! What’s right with it?” he laughed. “How about…Nigel?”

She scrunched her nose. “Horrific.”

“What about…Abraham?”

“Like the American president? Don’t be absurd.”

Loki sat back. “I’ve always been rather fond of my name. Can’t think of another…”

“I told you. Tom.”

“Absolutely not,” he took another bite. “Let me think on it, Clara. How about we come up with our story, eh?”

Jane nodded. She finished her bread and tea. “Well…should we be married already? Or how about we are brother and sister?”

“Neither would work, as you are selling yourself and I am…purchasing…” good lord this was awkward. He blushed a touch.

“Have you never, not in your whole life, solicited a prostitute, Loki?”

His gaze snapped to hers. “Why?”  

“Well, I mean…men are, I believe, bit more…virile?…than women…and if one isn't married or whatever, I imagine it would be…” she dropped her gaze. “Difficult? For erm…” she coughed and looked at him, laughing, as his eyes had grown wide in shock. ”Come, Loki…you know what I am talking about! Don’t make me say it.”

He rolled his eyes, after putting them promptly back in his head, then swallowed. This was, without a doubt, the worst conversation he had ever had. Including the one wherein he needed to tell Thor that he had accidentally on purpose drowned his pet rat. But who keeps a rat, honestly…? “Jane, I feel some things should be made plain before continuing any further with this rather dubious conversation,” he looked at his lap…at the floor…anywhere but Jane’s face. “Firstly…now, I am no lady, but I believe that women can and do enjoy relations if they are fortunate enough to have a sensitive partner. Secondly,” he wasn't looking at her still. “Women and men have been known to care about one another deeply independent of marriage or a contractual agreement of a financial nature. Thirdly,” and he took a deep breath and looked at her now. “I’ve solicited a prostitute…” and then he looked to the ceiling for the answer. “Perhaps twice in my thirty three years,” he looked back once more. “The first time I was fully young. I wanted the experience of sexual intercourse. The second time I had my heart broken, and desired the affection of a woman. Little happened there besides…well. Never mind. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

Jane felt humiliated. She blushed again and again. How heartless to pry so! “I’m very sorry, Loki. I never meant to pry…”  

“Oh, but you did. You’ve been aching to know this information since this business began.”

“I have not!” she protested.

He took a deep breath. “I do not wish to argue. You asked, I told you,” and now a smile spread across his face. “What about you?”

“Me?”

His eyebrows went up. “Well? Out with it, Miss Foster.”

She laughed. “I’ve never solicited a prostitute, Loki.”

“No…but have you had an experience of a sexual nature?”

Jane blushed again and again. Well, what did she expect? She had asked him. “I…have, yes.”

“Your virtue has been compromised?”

She looked at him, a bit angry, a bit hurt. “If you are asking about my virginity, then no. My ‘virtue’ remains in tact. But I have had some…experiences…yes.”

Loki nodded. “When I mentioned your virtue, Jane, it was in jest.”

“No it wasn’t…but I understand. That is how men view women. Either they are a virgin or they aren’t. A virgin is better, but if we were all virgins, no one would be here.”

He laughed. “Quite right.”

She joined his laughter. “So…Tom.”

“I won’t answer to that name.”

“…I suppose I could be a local prostitute, recently abandoned by my husband.”

“Or beat by him, and you left. That way locals will be wary of you. No one wants the threat of a jilted lover.”

Jane nodded. “All right. Clara with the lover who beat her…and you are Tom. A poor Englishman looking for his way in the world…lost in the maze of Eastern London debauchery.”

Loki looked at her and laughed heartily. “I still won’t answer to ‘Tom’.”

* * *

 

For five nights they wandered the streets, but usually only for a couple of hours.

The talk still surrounding John Pizer, for he had all but disappeared. Jane didn't think much of that.

“He has family here. I’m certain that they are keeping him hidden.”

Loki shrugged. It was Friday, and he was tired. This double life was taking its toll. He also loathed letting Jane wander around unattended. They were almost always within a hundred yards of one another, but he worried about her, and was unable to concentrate fully on the task at hand. He thought that perhaps that night he would go out on his own without the hindrance of Jane’s well being on his mind.

They were at the book shop, and Jane pulled her hair back up in a taut bun. It had been their habit to return to one of the shops after walking until about eleven or so, to discuss the night’s events.

“That chap…the second one I spoke with. There was something not right with him,” Jane observed.

“He had fleas,” Loki replied, sitting down and buttoning up his shirt.

“Not really,” she breathed.

“Didn’t you notice his fidget? He positively squirmed.”

“I thought that it was nerves…”

“Dearest Jane, while you are lovely, no one would have that reaction to you.”

“I beg your pardon!” she exclaimed, but laughed. “What about you, Loki? Anything?” she sat.

“Nothing.” “Well, at least we are trying…” He nodded. “Let’s get you home,” and he slapped his knees and stood. She smiled and smoothed herself.

“Let’s go,” she smiled.

It was a pleasant walk home for nearly midnight. The humidity had subsided during the day now a touch, so the night enjoyed a bit of a chill.

It wasn't lost on Jane that this was unwelcome news for the night wanderers. Winter was a wretched and frightening time for them. The soot on the stones crunched under their boots; the moonlight illuminated the wet rock softly… Jane, unknowingly, walked a bit closer to Loki, nearly brushing his side. They hadn’t spoken much since they left Asgard. He didn't comment.

They reached Jane’s stairs, and she turned toward him. “Well…I’ll see you on Monday?”

“Monday,” he nodded.

She turned and went up the stairs.

“Jane!” he called out.

She stopped and looked at him.

“I meant what I said about you being lovely,” and he turned and walked away.

…and Jane watched him leave, and turned the corner. And sighed.

Loki turned the corner and headed back toward Whitechapel. He would spend the next couple of hours scouring the place. He was certain that something was amiss, though he was hard pressed to put his finger on what.

It was now Saturday the 8th… And the silence was deafening to those listening for quiet.


	8. The Third One

**The Third One**

Jane went to bed that morning, as it was nearly one am, with a lot on her mind.

She was a bit disappointed in the lack of progress being made…but she wasn't too hard on herself. What she had hoped to accomplish was the prevention of more murders, and even though it had only been a week, she thought that, perhaps, things were being talked about more openly. Well, between her and Loki, at any rate.

…and her mind drifted to Loki. He was being incredibly supportive and helpful.

She smiled and laid back into her bed, worn from time. She was one of the only women she knew her age that was still a virgin, still slept in the same bed she and her father had purchased when she was twenty. He had told her to find a husband, a proper marriage bed. But Jane had no inclination for that sort of thing.

She wasn't romantic, not really. She rather thought that the entire business was ludicrous. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She needed no man. And while she had thought herself to be in love at one point, she quickly dismissed it; both then and now.

She wouldn't think it…would not even think his name. She had repressed it so that she barely thought of it with any emotion any longer.

The straw mattress was jabbing her a bit, and she shifted to her side. All right, Jane Foster, she thought. Perhaps she did romanticize the whole episode a touch…

_She had always lingered long at the shop after her father saw the last customer out. She was fifteen and he was priming her to take over._

_“Not many women who run shops, Jane. It’ll do you well to learn. Make your own way in this grimy world,” he had said._

_True, London was grimy…she looked about. At twenty, many of her friends were already setting about marrying. Jane could not have cared less about it._

_Until one day, she saw the Odinson family at Spitalfields market, just down the street from the apothecary, looking at one of the buildings to purchase. There were three of them: an older man, a younger blonde man, and a younger man with dark, raven hair. They all of them were quite tall._

_Jane was curious, it was in her nature to be so, and she walked over to the group, eyeing them all tangentially. The dark man noticed her almost straight away, and she looked away. The blonde one was laughing heartily, and Jane smiled at his laughter. He seemed very happy. The group went inside the storefront, while Jane lingered outside in the square._

_After some time of her sitting on the stone wall, listening to the market sounds, the blonde man came out and headed for her station on the wall._

_“Lovely day, isn't it?” he asked._

_Jane blushed and nodded._

_“Are we mute, Miss?”_

_“No,” she hurriedly replied._

_“How do you like the Market?”_

_“I like it well enough.”_

_“Just well enough?” he smiled._

_Jane shrugged. “I’m Jane.”_

_“Pleasure. I’m Thor.”_

_Odd name. “Will you be purchasing that storefront?”_

_“Mm…I think that father would like to, yes,” he nodded. “Though, I might be joining him more often if I have the pleasure of seeing your lovely face each day,” he winked at her and left._

_And from that day on, Jane looked for Thor. Sometimes she would see him, and they would flirt._

_And her fancy grew…_

Jane sighed once more…It was difficult to sleep in the heat. Especially with these memories flooding her…

_A few years later, Loki came by the apothecary. He required some herbs for his mother’s nerves. She was in a state because Thor was marrying, and the wedding was steadily growing out of control…_

_“Have you anything for such an ailment?” he asked._

_Jane was staring at him. Thor was marrying. And he wasn't marrying her. Of course he wasn't marrying her! She had spoken to him a handful of times!_

_“Pardon me, but are you well?” asked Loki._

_“Hm? Fine,” and she mixed the tonic._

_“Well,” he continued. “If that is how you behave when you are well, I’d hate to see you ill.”_

That was her first real encounter with Loki.

She smiled. He was a good friend.

* * *

 

Loki made his way through the labyrinth of Whitechapel, looking at every man who uttered a sentence with a foreign accent with a critical eye.

He followed a few…heard some cries of “Murder!” ran to the source, but found nothing. Unfortunately, such cries were common enough in the area.

He ended up at four am at the Ten Bells pub, not terribly far from the market. He was exhausted.

There was a small group of people sitting at a table not far from where he stationed himself at the bar. They were loud and quite intoxicated. He wasn't paying much mind to anything being said, done with the business as he was.

After about twenty minutes thus, he was thrown forward into his ale… “

Pardon me, guvna,” came a raspy woman’s voice. He looked at her.

“”s’all right,” in cockney.

“‘ey, ye be lookin’ fer a date…?” she slurred. “I can give ye a good price.”

Loki shook his head, and went back to his ale.

“Dis ‘uns a right snob,” she exclaimed, smacking him on his back. He coughed, and ignored it.

“Dis chap botherin’ ye, Annie?” a male voice came.

Loki spilled his pockets out with some coins for the ale and turned to leave.

He went out the door hearing the yells of those within in his wake.

He didn't need a fight…he thought he’d just head back home. To his empty house. Alone.

It was all right…he was quite content with the state of things. He didn't mind being a bachelor, even though he was approaching thirty four and his brother had been married for seven years. He enjoyed a freedom married men didn’t. What married man could wander the streets at four am without the dread of coming home to an angry wife?

Not one.

Of course, he reminded himself, one of the only reasons he was doing this was for a woman. Well, he was rather repulsed by the whole business, too. He was fearful for Jane. And himself. And Fandral. They worked in the thick of it all daily.

He opened the door to his flat. The twenty minute walk to his home never felt so long.

He slumped in his favorite chair and kicked off his boots. Jane. He was doing this for Jane. What was the matter with him?

She had always been a bit of fun to talk with…joke with. She was quick and bright and…

…he sighed. And she was lovely. He rested his face in the palm of his hand and dozed slightly. He cared about her, he supposed. He was attracted to her, too. They were good friends…he ticked these things off.

He suddenly sat up straight in the chair. Then covered his face with his hands after he squinted and sighed…

Fandral would never let him hear the end of it. He would need to tread very, very lightly.

* * *

 

Detective Selvig was wondering the area of Whitechapel.

It was five forty five am, and he had patrolling for only fifteen minutes. John Davis came running from a building on Hanbury Street…he was in a state.

* * *

 

Saturday mornings were always fairly relaxed in Algate.

There was a much smaller market, some of the less successful purveyors would open their carts to receive the benefit of a few day laborers doing some Saturday morning shopping.

Jane never bothered with it. She would sleep in a bit, then head to her own shop later…round about ten or eleven am.

She set out on her way, and noticed that despite the hour, the sky seemed a bit dark. There was a group of people at the end of the block standing about, muttering to themselves. She looked sideways at them, then, pulling her wrap closer, picked up the pace toward Spitalfields.

Oh no…no no no…a sense of foreboding descending upon her…

“She was seen ‘round ‘bout four. Down at da Ten Bells…Mista Odinson saw ‘er…”

She stopped and looked at the group on Whitechapel Road, and approached the woman who had said this.

“Pardon me. Did you say that Mister Odinson had seen her?”

“‘at’s righ’. Da one ‘o owns da book shop.”

Panic filled her. She turned quickly and began to run to the Market.

What did this mean? Was Loki in trouble? Was he hurt? Was he…? No. She wouldn't consider that. Besides, the woman she had just spoke with would have been much more suspicious of Jane had Loki been hurt or anything…

Her brow pearled sweat from the run and the slowly warming air…her heart pounded with her feet on the stone. Jane saw the Market, saw the throng…

…another murder. She was certain of it…

And she suddenly couldn't feel her legs.

Where was Loki…she scanned the crowd. Nothing. She turned, looking all about… He wasn't there.

She willed her legs to carry her to the center of the Market. And she saw Detective Selvig. Jane’s mouth was dry, her hands shaking…she made her way as best she could over to him, brushing passed the thick crowd gathered along the periphery of the market.

“Detective Inspector…” she heaved, taking his sleeve.

“Oh!” he said, turning. “Miss Foster! I was just asking about you…”

She swallowed…and a plethora of notions filled her mind… …he was asking about her because he knew that she and Loki were friends and he needed to speak with her about him because he was hurt…because he was taken in for questioning…because he was…

Jane closed her eyes.

“Miss Foster…”

“Jane,” she croaked. “Are you unwell?”

“I’m overwrought…overheated…water…” and she stumbled, still holding onto Selvig’s sleeve.

“Elton! Come quickly!”

And the next thing she knew, she was being carried away. “Down….please put me down…I need…”

“Hush, Miss. We are taking you to the book shop.” Book shop. Asgard…and tears welled… She heard the door open, and the cool interior enveloped her. She opened her eyes as she was lowered…

“Jane!” came a voice. Loki’s voice.

“Loki?” And lo, there he was, kneeling before her…he swam into focus. “Loki!” she exclaimed, and threw her arms around his neck. “Oh! I thought…I had thought…!”

“What is the matter, Jane? Why were you being carried?” he pulled away from her.

“She’s in a state, Mr Odinson. She needs some water,” said Selvig.

Loki examined her face, aiding her back into the chair. He handed her the water brought by another officer, and pulled a chair for himself in front of her. “Tell me what happened.”

She shook her head and downed the water. “I was being silly,” she laughed. Then, remembering herself, looked around. There were four officers in Asgard besides Selvig. “What is going on here?”

Loki sighed rather heavily. “Inspector, might you ask your officers, save perhaps Elton, to excuse us?” he was looking at the floor.

Erik told them to leave, leaving Loki, Jane, Officer Elton, and Selvig in the shop.

Jane’s eyes were wide, and she was looking around with a hint of worry. She licked her lips. as they were quite dry…”Loki?”

He cleared his throat and stood. “Well, Jane. You have missed quite a morning. There was another murder, as you might have deduced,” he shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked to behind the counter. “Poor Annie Chapman was found a few hours ago in a back yard at 29 Hanbury Street.”

“Hanbury…? That’s just…”  

“About five minutes from here, yes. But, you might be wondering why I am being questioned.”

“Well…”

Loki nodded. “I was approached by Miss Chapman just about two hours before her murder.”

“What?! But…” Jane stood now. She looked at the other two officers…confused.

“I’ll explain in a moment, Jane,” he nodded. Then he turned to Selvig. “Are we finished here, Detective?”

“I think so. You will be in the area, should we have any…”

“Further questions, yes,” and he began walking them out. They left, and Loki shut the door, sighing.

Jane stood there, attempting to collect herself as best she could.

She had no idea what he was about to say. Did he go out after leaving her, looking for…sexual favors? She would say nothing of it, as it was none of her business. “Loki…”

He turned, and smiled at her with a good bit of embarrassment laced in his grin. “Jane.”

He went to the back and obtained some brew…his recent realization peppering his thoughts…he would ignore it. Ignore it, and everything would be all right. His heart was beating very fast, hammering his ears…

…and he went back out.

He handed Jane a mug. “Sit down, Jane.”

She sat, swallowing, barely cognizant of the mug she held. Something was very not right. “So…last evening, after I left you, I decided to walk about…perhaps ask some more questions…”

“You did? Do you do this often?”

“No. Never,” he sat now, and rubbed his hands on his legs, placing the mug on the counter. “Now, I was not enjoying much success. I decided that I would stop at the Ten Bells for an ale. Poor Miss Chapman was there…and she…offered me her services. She was there with a group, a small one, mind. I declined her offer, and she and another man followed me a bit, in a state. That was what I was speaking to Scotland Yard about.”

“Oh,” Jane responded, quite stupidly, she thought. He smiled at her.

“Oh? That is what our investigator thinks about this turn? There was another murder, Jane.”

She closed her eyes, nodding. “I know…I just…all I could think was…” she stuttered a breath. “…what if something had happened to you?” and her eyes found his, wet with emotion.

Loki swallowed…ignore it ignore it…”There is something else of particular interest about this latest atrocity.”

  Jane swallowed. “Indeed?”

“Part of her uterus was missing.”


	9. A Discovery, A Lie, and A Sneak

A Discovery, a Lie, and a Sneak

Loki had always known his brother to be a bit of a womanizer. Yet everyone loved him.

It drove him mad.

There was nothing about Thor which vexed him in particular; he was a good enough sort. But the fact that everyone loved him so was what both enraged and confused him. He was a handsome man, not even Loki could deny it. He was amiable, sometimes amusing, not altogether dull, had some knowledge, and was helpful. Usually.

These were all good enough traits for any man…but none warranted the fierce adoration they inspired in those around him. 

Loki loved Thor.

He also loathed him.

Now, Thor, as was stated, loved the ladies. He enjoyed many, many lovers, and was not shy about proclaiming it. 

But it was one lady in particular which caused a fissure in the Odinson family, never to fully be mended. 

Lady Sif was from a wealthy family. She was, to her family’s disappointment, headstrong and willful. Sif had caught Loki’s eye when the Odinson’s were away from London one summer, and he engaged her in conversation.

He found her to be a pleasant enough lady.

They took walks, they laughed…and though Loki was not taken, as such, he certainly enjoyed her company.

Around the same time, the patriarch, Odin, was handing off some land to Thor. This gave Loki pause, for he couldn't believe that his father would be so unfair as to deny Loki land. 

He had forgotten how he had irritated Odin. How he had defied him blatantly on more than one occasion. 

Loki thought he was being playful. Odin thought he was being a shameless brat. 

It was round about this time that Loki discovered Sif in the arms of Thor, on their veranda, in the moonlight.

And though his heart was not quite broken, and though his anger was more at himself for having any reaction at all, he reacted, and badly.

So it was that Odin approached Loki with Asgard, thinking that his younger son needed some time away from this mess. Though it was unclear how Loki was in such a severe state; no one had any idea that Loki fancied Sif.

If there was any feeling on Loki’s part, he hardly showed it, nor did he feel it deeply. It was the principle. Thor was taking many lands, and now he was taking Sif. 

He was bitter.

Loki arrived in London at his nice enough flat with the title, “entrepreneur,” not knowing what he was doing, really. 

He was angry at Sif for falling for Thor’s advances, when he had intimated to her what he was.

He was angry at Odin for banishing him to a ridiculous station.

Angry at Frigga, his mother, for not stopping any of it.

And angry at himself for both putting himself in this situation, and for, after a time, not really minding. 

He found he was good at his job. 

And he was pleased, overall, with how it turned out.

That didn't mean that he was unaffected, nor that he was happy per se. Only that he was no longer as hurt. 

It was also fortuitous that he discovered the apothecary and her charms a few years after taking over Asgard. 

That made the whole of it much more palpable.

....

Never, in all of his life, did he think that “Part of her uterus was missing,” would ever be among the phrases he would utter. 

But he did, and he waited for Jane to react.

She was already in a state, perhaps he should have taken more care in his proclamation. “Jane?”

She snapped out if it. “Hm? Yes?”

“Did you hear me?” 

“I did.” He nodded, then cleared his throat and sat across from her. 

The air was rather thick, and the hum of the throng was buzzing just outside. There were small rays of light slipping through insistently around the closed windows, and Jane was staring at one. “You need to clean in here, Loki,” and she looked at him. “I can see the dust in the light just there,” she smiled.

He smiled. “I’ll tend to it momentarily, Miss Foster…however, I would like to hear your thoughts on this development before I commit to any housecleaning.”

“Thoughts?” she couldn't think. Nothing was sufficient. A woman had been disemboweled mere yards from where she sat. And…it could have been her. “Well, I suppose I think that this is awful. That I feel ill from it. And that we…” what? And a thought struck her. “We need to discover who that American was who was looking for organs.”

Loki nodded, then sat back. “Do you think, then, that that is the motive?”

She stood. “Well, if the scientist was looking for a uterus, maybe.”  Now he rose. “But what if he wasn’t, and the killer merely didn't know what a uterus looked like, so he took the first possible organ? What if he is merely cunning, not intelligent, in human anatomy?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, a bit exasperated. “But it’s a start.”

“Do we need to, do you think, to remain incognito?” he leaned forward, hands in pockets.

Jane’s eyes squinted a bit in thought. “Yes…though I think that we should be a bit more persistent with Selvig. He could, theoretically, be a wealth of information.”

“Or, he could be a massive waste of time if the authorities are as inept as we believe.”

Jane sighed. “What would you have us do? We need to keep abreast of what they are doing…” she stopped, and turned away, walking to the back of the chair she had sat at, and placed her hands on its back. “And you are the one who insisted that we…what was it? Work alongside, not against the police?”

“I did, as you observed, say that,” and now Loki went to the back of the shop. He procured more brew, and went back over to Jane, handing her a mug again. “However, given the current state of events, it might be prudent to operate more independently,” he downed the refreshment, then looked at her. “What?”

Her mouth was agape, she had not sat down. “Now you want to work independently? Now, when a woman’s uterus is missing? You are impossible,” she waved her arms, then sat once more. “How do you propose we begin this?”

“I propose the same thing we have been doing. But perhaps not make any effort to alert the authorities until we have some sort of concrete proof.”  “Of?”

He smiled at her. “Motive.”

....

The atmosphere that Saturday in Whitechapel was one of decided unease. There was a steady sun, and the heat mixed with the scents created a sickly sweet aroma. There was rain at night the previous two evenings, and the wash the rain provided was short lived. There was soot and grey pervading the tableau quite quickly. 

Jane and Loki did not venture out Saturday or Sunday. She opted not to see him after she closed the shop Saturday afternoon, only having opened for a few hours. She wanted to get home to her father, since Darcy always left a bit early Saturday’s. 

She bustled in with a few parcels and shouted, “Evening, father!”

“Jane! Come in,” he was sitting by the fire.

She went over and kissed his cheek. 

“How is your partner?”

She laughed. “You mean Loki?” and she went to the small kitchen and began to cook the stew. “He’s fine. I haven't seen him since this morning. I think that he closed the shop up early, too.”

“Indeed?” he called from the sitting room. “He keeps odd hours. What do you think of him, Jane?”  “Think?” Jane returned with a soother, and handed it to her father.

“You spend a good deal of time with him, is that not so?”

“Well,” she sat across from him. “Yes…I suppose.”

“But it was his brother you once fancied.”

Jane lowered her eyes. “I didn't fancy him, father. I hardly knew him.”

“You fancied him, don't be silly.”

“I…” she paused. “I had built him up,” she admitted. 

“So then you fancied the fellow you thought him to be,” he observed, sitting back and sipping.

Jane shrugged and sat. “I…suppose so. He was always very happy…”

“While Loki is taciturn and sullen.”

“…blonde and blithe…”

“Loki is dark and thoughtful…”

“But rather preoccupied with his own affairs.”

“Loki pays you a visit a few times a week, is that not so?”

“It is,” Jane paused. “To what do these comparisons tend, father?”

“I’m merely attempting a very crude sketch of the Odinson fellows. Their father was an interesting man, and it appears that he sired equally interesting offspring.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Jane replied smilingly.

“Well, he has two sons which have captured my daughter’s imagination. I’d say that’s interesting,” and Dr Foster rose and went to the garden. Since it was well before dinner, he thought he may as well see to it. It wasn't much, being in the heart of London, but it was his.

Jane swallowed. She thought about how wretched she felt when she was concerned for Loki earlier that day. 

She had always dismissed him as a rather obnoxious puppy. Irritating, to be sure, but in need of attention, and one didn't mind offering the poor sod some of your eye, for he was good enough. Sometimes charming. 

And, in his own way, adorable.

She sighed.

She cared for Loki. He was, as she had ruminated on many times, a good friend. 

Jane never realized just how much of a friend he really was until all of this business began. 

She stood and went to begin the arduous task of preparing dinner.

....

Monday morning dawned cold, the first of its kind since spring. 

Jane wrapped herself up tight and started her walk toward Spitalfield Market, taking note of the decided lack of merchants and customers on the streets. 

The outdoor markets were, as is to be expected, very sparse in the winter months, and Jane often wondered just how the purveyors were able to support themselves from December through March. That isn't to say that there were none, but they were careful to keep certain hours, and their goods were scant. 

It felt like December that morning of the eleventh. It was still and wan. Nary a soul was about, and those who were, chatted in small, tight groups, huddled in fear and apprehension. 

Jane side-eyed them all, nodding to a few. 

She wondered if Selvig would be about that day, considering recent events and the fact that the police were most assuredly investigating. It had been the most gruesome yet. 

Jane entered the apothecary and began her tasks to ready the shop. 

She wiped the counters, started the tea in the back, and propped the door open. 

It was then that she saw Selvig walking toward her shop. 

“Morning, Miss Foster,” said he, entering.

“Jane,” and she closed the door, switching the sign back to ‘Closed.’

“I’ve already seen Mr Odinson…”

And she looked over toward the book shop through the window; it too, shut up. “Where is Loki?”

“He told me,” and Selvig leaned against the counter. “That he was taking the train to his father’s house, that he’d be back late this evening.”

“Oh,” she nodded. 

“Miss Foster,” he continued.

 Jane went to the back. “Do please call me Jane,” she called out, pouring tea. She was preparing herself. She knew that Loki and Odin did not get on well, and the fact that he was visiting him, unplanned, was disconcerting. She went back out to the shop and handed him a cup. 

“Thank’ee,” he said, and sipped. “It’s been quite a couple of days.”

“I imagine,” she pulled two chairs to the center of the room. “What news?”

“Well,” and he sat. “Not much. There were a few suspects brought in in the aftermath. However, none of them were that promising. There was talk at the Yard about asking for a reward in return for the culprit. That was an idea many of the officers liked. We are waiting for the Home Office to respond.”

Jane nodded. “Anything regarding the…” how should she put it? “Erm…the American scientist?”

“How do you know about that?” he eyed her suspiciously. “Miss Foster, if we are to be working together on this, you’ll need to be more forthright.”

“I had heard about him from a third party source. It was nothing, really…” Damn. She wondered if Loki would be cross with her about this…they hadn’t really discussed how much information they’d be sharing with anyone, including Selvig.

“Well, no,” Selvig said. “No…we haven't been able to follow up, really, as we don't have his name.”

Her eyes fell to the floor. It was impossible, really. How were they to discover him with only two remarkable characteristics…American and scientist? “Right,” she said. Her heart fell. Jane wasn't convinced, necessarily, that this was the motive. But it was the only one they had come up with, and it seemed plausible enough.

Or perhaps she had merely convinced herself that it was plausible, and it was, in actuality, ludicrous.

“Don’t fret, Miss Foster,” he said reassuringly. “Now, I come this morning to talk about that reward that the Yard is requesting from the Home Office.”

“Reward?” Jane was a bit shocked. “Oh, yes. It must not be terribly enticing for the Home Office.” Rewards were hardly ever given out. Her Majesty didn't seem to believe in them. 

“That’s right,” he drank the rest of his tea. “But the Yard is being insistent, and should the answer be ‘no,’ I have a list drawn for people who can be approached for a donation to the cause.”

“Oh? Who cares about Whitechapel prostitutes, Detective?”

“Why, Mr Odinson does.”

And then it hit her, why Loki had gone to his father. He was asking him to front some monty. “That’s why he’s gone to his father…”

“Just so,” and he stood. “I’ll be patrolling every night this week, ten to three. Will you be…?” he trailed off.

“Oh!” she was snapped from her thoughts. “Yes, I believe so. Though probably not this evening,” Jane stood, and shook Selvig’s hand. “Thank’ee, Detective Inspector. For everything.”

He nodded. “Can’t say that I agree with what the two of you are doing…but I admire you for it.”

She smiled, shrugged, and opened the door. “Someone has to…” she whispered softly.

....

The day passed dull enough, as many people stayed well away from the Markets. There was a persistent unease, and Jane only saw a handful of her regulars. 

She closed the shop early, after having opened late, and wondered if she’d ever have a regular schedule again. 

Down toward Whitechapel she went, looking at every lone man with a suspicious eye. She pulled her drab wrap close. The chill was unrelenting…she thought that she might purchase a new one, except that the one she was wearing was her mother’s, and she couldn't abandon it. The guilt was simply too great. 

Into Algate she went, and up her stairs. “Father!” she called out.

“Jane! In here!” he was calling from the kitchen, and Jane took her hat and wrap off. 

“Rather dull day,” she called out. “No one about…just Mrs Turner and her…” she went to the kitchen and found her father sitting at the tiny table in there with Loki.

He smiled at her. “It is a pity,” he began. “That there was little in terms of amusement for you, Jane. I reckon it was my absence which rendered it so very dull. But do, tell us of Mrs Turner and her arthritis. She no doubt was an amusing addition to your day.”

“Loki!” Jane smiled and went over to him, taking his hand. “It is very good to see you.”

“Loki here was just telling me about some of your customers, daughter.”  

“Indeed?” she dropped his hand. “And what does he know of my customers?” she stirred the soup and tasted it.

It needed more salt.

“Only that they are all dependent upon you and your good nature,” Loki sat. “Dr Foster was much the same way. Work all day, bustling about, and nothing to show for the end of the day save some sore feet.”

Jane laughed…”Defend me from his ridicule, father.”

“Well, I’ll never mind a good heart, Jane. But a heart won’t salt the soup,” he smiled and left.

“That didn't make any sense,” Jane said, shaking her head. And she paused, thoughtful…she wanted to ask Loki about his father. “What brings you here? I cannot recall the last time you darkened our doorstep…you always leave me to enter alone,” Jane sat across from him. 

“No…I do not wish to infringe on sacred father daughter time…I have you most of the day,” he said without thinking. There was simply no question of his “having” her in any manner. She wasn't his, nor was she likely to ever be.

“You think too much of it. Father is often asleep when I get home.”

Loki nodded. “I went to call on my own father today, Jane.”

“Did you?”

“I asked him to contribute to Scotland Yard’s offer of a reward, should they submit one.”

Jane’s eyes went wide. “And what did he say?”

“Well, he said…that even if they don’t, he will put forth five hundred pounds.”

Her hands went to her mouth, she was overcome. “Oh, Loki! That is wonderful news!”

He smiled. “I hope it is, Jane Foster,” and he dropped his gaze with he knowledge that Odin had committed to fifty, and he would be fronting the rest.


	10. Inquest, Tea, and the 10th of September

**Inquest, Tea, and the 10th of September**

George Philips returned to his office in quite a state. He reached for his tonic and downed it hungrily. He had never been subjected to more scrutinizing questioning, nor had he ever had to answer questions in front of so many people.

Well, no wonder, given the nature and brutality of the crime. As coroner, he had honestly never seen such a sight, for Anne Chapman was positively vivisected. With no motive, and the only other remarkable thing besides the brutality, was the fact that her uterus had been removed, he thought that that could be a feasible motive. He hadn’t been prepared for the outburst following.

There was a knock at his door, and he hesitated. He didn't fancy the press or its interviewers. “Who’s there?” he called out.

“Mr. Philips, I’m Detective Selvig, and I’m here with…erm…” there was some muttering Philips couldn't make out. “Mr. Odinson.”

“Who is Mr. Odinson?” he returned, fearful of the press.

“I’m a concerned citizen and merchant in Spitalfields Market,” he sounded refined to Philips.

George Philips opened the door warily. “You have those press people with ya?” he asked with a sidelong glance.

“No, I assure you, Mr. Philips. We merely have a few questions for you,” and Selvig went in, Loki right behind.

The pair stood in the middle of the room as Philips closed the door shut behind him, a bit of a wary and exhausted look about him. “What can I do for you?” he asked.

“Well, Mr. Philips, we are here because you mentioned a possible motive in your report, and we were wondering why you thought this and how you received your information…” Selvig rocked on the balls of his feet.

“If you are here to laugh at me or to make comments to the papers…” he began, rounding on them.

“No no,” Loki held his hands up. “No. We are curious, because we…” then paused, recalling how Selvig said it would be dangerous to the future of their investigation if he was perceived as siding with Loki on this. “That is, I…rather think that there is something to it.”

“What?”

“Your idea concerning motive.”

Philips sighed and going to his desk, sat down. “There were indications that this scientist hasn't been in the area for over a year.”

“But that doesn’t mean that he’s stopped looking,” replied Loki with a smirk.

* * *

 

“Oh, Mrs. Watson, do let me know! You and your husband have always been such favorites!” Jane said, after learning of Mr. Watson being unwell.

“That we’ll do, Miss Fosta…de chill is settlin’ early…” she sounded worried.

“It is, isn't it?” Jane responded, worried.

The winter always made her fearful for the inhabitants of London, and now her father, becoming increasingly frail…”Let’s hope for warm fires and an early spring, eh?” she smiled.

“At leas’ with de cold, de girls won’ be out…” she said with a shudder.

“Quite right,” said Jane as Mrs. Watson left.

But she knew differently…desperate for a bed to stave off the chill, the women would continue to walk, for what choice did they have, really?

She hummed softly as she readied up the shop for closing. Loki had gone to Annie Chapman’s inquest with Selvig, and she wanted to be alone and ready when they returned. She was nervous…though she couldn't say why she was.

Jane had spent much of the past couple of days in a bit of a haze; she heard what people were saying, but she wasn't really listening. Not even to Loki or her father. She was simultaneously terrified and calm. It almost felt as though she had resigned herself to either never catching this killer, or dying herself in the process. Neither was particularly beguiling, so she shut herself down.

Loki appeared to be rather concerned, so he offered to attend the inquest with Selvig. He seemed as though he was worried she might lose her mind if she attended.

Jane knew that she wasn't as bad as all that. She knew that she was just processing what was happening…her imagination tended to get the better of her. She would see what Loki discovered at the inquest, and act from there.

And if that meant she would be on the streets again, so be it.

She went to the back to brew some tea…

…and heard a disturbance in the alley behind the store. She swallowed. Surely this was nothing…surely this was a domestic squabble…

 There was a thud. Jane went to the back door and pressed her ear to it, listening intently.

If she was thinking about it, none of the attacks took place this time of day…

She took a cutting knife from the small table she used to clean and cut herbs and opened the door slowly. Her hands, she noted, were quite steady. Her breath hitched as she opened it more fully, the late day sun barely reaching the alley, dank and drab with age and soot.

“‘e’s ‘ere! ‘ere ‘e be!” a man was calling.

Jane threw the door fully wide now, and there stood a terrified John Pizer crouching in the corner. She ran over to him…

”John, are you alright?”

“Away from ‘im, Miss Fosta, ‘e be Leather Apron!”

“I know who he is, you fool!” she spat, turning. “And he committed no crime save scaring a few women.”

“‘ow can ye know? ‘e waves dat knife ‘round. ‘e roams de streets…” the man was coming upon her.

Jane stood in front of Pizer, her own small knife extended in front of her. Now she shook, but with rage. “You know nothing. Stay clear, or I’ll tear your throat!”

There were people advancing in the alley. And the man turned white. “She threatened me, she did! She be da killer!”

“What?” Jane asked, confused.

“What is going on here?” Jane heard Selvig approaching. “Oh, Detective Inspector. Here is John Pizer, and here is a man who thinks he knows everything,” she said.

“She jus’ done threaten me, sir. Wit dat knife. She should be brough' tin.”

Selvig looked at Jane. He went to Pizer and took his arm. “Nothing here to see, now,” he waved his free arm about, then turned to Jane. “Watch what you’re doing, Miss Foster. Now he’ll go and start a rumor that you’re the killer.”

“Oh, tosh,” she said. “Take good care of John, here. He’s a good sort,” and she went back into her shop.

She shook her head as she readied her tea. If Selvig was back, that meant that Loki would be returning soon… Jane smiled to herself. He was such a source of comfort for her now…

And her brow furrowed…he was a source of comfort? What did _that_ mean? Jane carried the perplexed look with her into the center of the shop.

“If you’re not mindful and heed my advice, you’ll end up killed, Jane Foster.”

“Loki!” he had snuck in without her knowledge. She set her tea down and went to him, smiling. “What happened at the inquest?”

“You forgot something,” Loki smiled and sat down.

She frowned, a bit confused. “I…”

“Dear Jane, you are standing there with a piping hot cup of tea. My hands are decidedly empty.”

“You prat,” she laughed and fetched his tea.

Loki swallowed. He thought that he had good news, all things considered. But it was impossible to tell, really, in the face of such horror. She brought him some tea and sat across from him. He sipped. “Very nice,” he said.

Jane watched him expectantly. “Well?”

“Well…I heard what Mr. Philips, George, had to say on the matter.”

“And what was that?”

Loki sat the cup down and looked at Jane. “He suggested that there was a market for human organs, and that the need began some eighteen months ago.”

She let out a small breath. “Eighteen months…?”

“Yes, but what if he only was contacted more recently? What if our local miscreant only moved into Whitechapel this summer, and heard about this much the way Mary Kelly did? What if he contacted the scientist only recently and told him he could procure what he required?”  

“Then this scientist is perfectly awful!” Jane exclaimed. “For surely he knows that it cannot be mere happenstance that the murders coincide with an inquiry about the organs! The American knows what is going on!”

“Now Jane, don't work yourself up. This is only a theory, but possibly not an insane one if other reputable minds thought it viable.”

“Oh Loki…what do we do?”

“I imagine we need to discover the name of the scientist in question. Try to ascertain if he has been contacted.”

Jane nodded. This was going to be difficult. “Did Dr. Philips know his name?”

“No. But I think I might know how we can discover it.”

“How?” she breathed. “Thor has connections at _The Lancet_.”

“The medical journal?”

“That’s right.”

“Oh,” she sat back, unsure how to proceed. “Well…what shall we do in the meantime?”

Loki rubbed his face. “I think that we might need to take some time until we discover just what our American was after. He might have only required…” he trailed, suddenly uncomfortable.

“A uterus?” Jane supplied with a grin. He nodded, returning her smile.

“Just so. I’ll write to Thor. We should have a response by the weekend.”

“Well then, that’s settled,” Jane stood, and clapped her hands. “Shall we?” she gathered the cups and brought them to the back.

Loki put the chairs away and stood in the middle of the shop, hands in pockets. “Jane, what do you say we have some dinner at the tavern in town?”

“In town?” she walked in. “But father…maybe tomorrow, Loki,” town, to east enders, meant money. Something precious few had.

He nodded. “All set?”

“You could stop in for some tea and cakes…Darcy made them today.”

They left the shop and Jane caught up to walk alongside Loki. “How could I resist?” he smiled. “Fandral will be in a state seeing me tomorrow. I had told him it possible I wouldn't be in most of the week.”

“Why?”

“Well, I didn't know if travel would be necessary.”

“What are you keeping to yourself?” she accused, looking at him.

“Nothing. I simply didn't know what to expect at the inquest today.”

“Oh. Well, I suppose that no one knows what to expect anymore.” Loki nodded, only half watching the peddlers and the beggars in the gutter. He didn't know what to expect, either. Though his disquiet was of a different flavor. “No…I don't suppose they do.”

They reached Jane’s house and went inside. “Well well. If it isn't our local detectives…” cried Dr Foster from his station. She went directly to the kitchen and began to reheat the night’s stew, made some tea, and put the cakes out.

Jane felt her heart beating persistently in her chest. She couldn't account for her unease save the general feeling of anxiety in the area about the murders.

“Dr Foster is asking for his soother, Jane,” Loki said, entering the kitchen.

“Oh!” she turned abruptly around to face Loki. “Of course,” and she fiddled with the tonic she would mix for him. “Here you are,” she smiled.

…and as she handed him the cup, her fingers slid along his hand tangentially. Her breath stopped for a split second…

He looked at her crookedly for a moment, then nodded and took the cup from her, smiling. Jane was confused about her reaction…she shook her head and turned back to the dinner.

* * *

 

“Your father was always a reputable man, Loki. I don’t understand the discord.”

“Well…it’s complicated,” replied Loki.

“It always is,” said Dr Foster, and he rose and readied himself for bed.

Jane was playing with her cake, not really paying attention…too preoccupied with her reaction from earlier.

“Well, Jane. Your conversation is enthralling, but I really must be on my way,” he stood with a chuckle.

“Oh…I am sorry, Loki,” she stood as well. “I suppose I have been out of sorts lately.”

“Understandable.”

Jane smiled. “Well…will you write to your brother this evening?”

“I will,” he put his overcoat on, his cap, and began to walk to the door. “Good evening, Jane,” he turned to smile at her as his hand went on the doorknob.

And Jane was right there. “Loki…are you frightened?”

His hand fell. “I…am. Of course I am.”

“Why is this happening?” she swallowed. “I cannot say. But know this, Jane. I will do everything I can to ensure your safety.”

“And I yours,” she smiled.

“You think that I am in need of protection?” he chided.

“I cannot say,” and an innocent look befell her countenance. “But everyone wants to know that they are cared for enough to elicit a protective instinct in another. That you are precious to someone,” her gaze fell, and she took his hand. “I promise that I’ll protect you if it’s in my power to do so,” and she kissed his cheek, dropped his hand, and pulled away, smiling. “Good night, Loki,” she reached and opened the door for him.

And without a word, he left and made his way into the black night of London. Nothing bad would happen that night.


	11. The Rest of September, and a Shabby-Genteel Fellow

**The Rest of September, and a Shabby-Genteel Fellow**

It didn't take long for the inhabitants of Whitechapel and surrounding to become desperate and accusatory of nearly everyone they fancied suspicious. There were daily accusations and finger pointing. People walked in hurried manners, the shops closed early, and the women continued to walk, although the crowds of them were decidedly thinner.

Fandral was, quite frequently now, uneasy and rather desperate to get away from Asgard. He would check in on Mary, and give her some money to keep her off the streets.

Loki said nothing about his desire to leave a bit earlier, understanding his unease and care for Mary. Loki suspected that there might be a bit more than casual concern for a dear friend, but kept his thoughts to himself. It wasn't his business.

There were rumors that began to circulate…one involved the possibility of a woman having committed the murders, the other of a witness describing a fellow around Hanbury Street at 5:30 am. He was described as a dark-ish man, with a shabby-genteel appearance. Loki had heard this witness, but dismissed her after he had heard Dr. Philips’s claim that the murder must have taken place at least an hour previous to the sighting.

Jane was less convinced. “What does he know, anyway?”  

“Oh, you are quite right, Jane. Obviously a day laborer knows much more than a registered surgeon about times of death and such. We should find that witness and demand her help. She would surely lead us directly to the villain.”

“Stop it,” she spat. “My point is, is that nothing should be dismissed. Everything should be treated as a possible clue to the killer,” she sat down.

They were in Asgard, and it was Friday. Loki was beginning to see to the closing up of shop, and it was the first real conversation they had had about their investigation since the inquest. “Wonderful. Let’s then interview every merchant in the Market to determine what fellows of a shabby-genteel appearance have purchased. Perhaps he fancies potatoes. Perhaps he was preparing a stew of uterus and potato,” he smiled.

“That’s disgusting and I won’t comment on your attempts at sarcasm when such vile things are uttered from your lips,” Jane crossed her arms in front of her.

Loki cleared his throat. “Apologies. Perhaps that was a bit far.”

“Indeed,” said she. “Well, we are going to attempt this tonight, yes?” she straightened her hat. She had put on some rouge and changed her clothes.

“As you like,” Loki began unbuttoning the top of his shirt, took an old scarf out of a drawer behind the counter, and rubbed some dirt on his face.

Jane laughed.

“What?” he squinted at her.

“Well,” and she stood. “It’s just funny, isn't it? You’re always rather refined. To see you thus is funny.”

“I daresay you look ridiculous as well. You look like a tomato with that rouge.”

“Humph,” she smiled. “Ready, Your Highness?”

“As ever,” and he opened the door for her with a smirk, locking up behind them.

“Shall we meet up once more in an hour?” he knew fully well that he would not be letting her out of his sight, but he needed to not let on that that was the case. “An hour. At my shop,” she said, and turned toward Whitechapel Road.

The air was thinner, for though the midday sun still heated the stones underfoot with ferocity, by the time the orb had made its way across the sky a bit, a chill could be felt.

Jane sighed as she walked. She never ventured out much beyond the immediate area around Spitalfields…mostly because she was wary, but also she knew that Loki followed her. She wanted to help him keep his guise that he was protecting her, so she made certain that there was ample hiding places for him along her route. He was a funny man!

The Britannia was often where she would go, it was a decent enough pub as far as location went. So she headed there. Jane walked in and sat at a table in the corner. There wasn't a lot of people there yet, many hadn’t gotten done with their workday.

She strained her ears to listen to the talk, but the mutterings were too low. No doubt Annie Chapman was still the main topic of conversation. She sat there a moment, went up to the bar, ordered an ale, then sat back down.

Not long following, a pair of workers came in, being rather loud. No doubt they had already hit a pub or two…

“‘e says it be a girl!”

“Naw…can’ be.”

“I swear it! ‘e says de girl waved a knife a’ ‘im an’ says she be meanin’ ta cut his throat.”

Jane was listening intently now…she had heard that there was a rumor that a woman was a suspect. This must be the woman in question…she took a long draught of ale and leaned slightly closer.

“‘e says jus’ de other day…’e was chasin’ ole Leather Apron, and den dis girl came outta a shop in de Market…she said she’d rip ‘is throat…”

…and Jane’s breath hitched. They meant _her_. 

She was suddenly desperately uncomfortable.

She, a suspect…? What should she do?

Her palms were sweating…she downed her ale and looked around her. No one was watching her. She could just slip away.

Jane got up, side eyeing the table of workers next to her. In her haste and distraction, she walked into another man stationed at the bar.

“Pardon, guvna…” she rasped.

“Now, ‘o be you…?” he turned toward her, and eyed her.

“No one, but if ye be intrested…me man is jus’ outside ‘ere. Talk ova me fee,” she replied.

“Oh, ya ‘ave a man, do ye? Well, I don’ need no par’ of dat.”

“Ya certain? I ‘aven’t got no complaints before…” she smiled. She almost wanted to take him to Loki.

“Too much trouble wit a man…get ye gone…” he waved her off.

Jane shrugged, then went through the door.

She was still in a tizzy over the news that people were suspicious of her….

…where was he…she listened for the bells…none. Jane looked up and down the road…there were some day laborers leaving for home, some merchants were still about, the carts were mostly still up. Must be just before six, then. She had left Loki almost an hour ago.

She decided to get herself into an alley and fix herself before heading toward her shop. It wouldn't do to leave and head straight for a closed up shop with a key. It would blow her cover.

Jane went to a darkened part of the alley and began to button herself up, took her hat off and pulled her hair into a tighter bun. It was then she heard it…

“And what did you say about the lady in question?”

“I didn’ say nufin, guvna.”

“Do you know who she is?”

“Naw, I don’ know des types…if ye be lookin’ fer…” he paused. “Dat kinda evenin’ ya need to go to da pubs. De ladies ye be talkin’ ‘bout…dey be in de pubs now…”

“But Miss Kelly. Is she in the pubs…?” J

ane noted that he almost seemed wistful.

“I dunno no Kelly. Sorry, guvna.” and Jane heard him leave.

She swallowed…she was alone in the alley with the man she was certain was the same as the one Loki and she had heard speaking just a couple of weeks ago. Her heart was thrumming…she backed closer to the wall…she began to slide along it, edging her way to the corner.

And then she heard the man approaching softly, his shoes crunching the soot of the alley, disregarded and dirty.

“I know you’re there,” he said.

Oh god… Jane quickly thought over her options…face him, or run for it. That was it. He’s the killer…a voice said. And if he was, she was no match for him, she was certain.

RUN!

Jane bolted out the other end of the alley in a frenzy…she lifted her skirts so that she had more range of motion from her legs…

SCREAM! she thought.

“LOKI!!” she yelled.

It was the first thing that came to mind.

Her feet pounded the stone road, she didn't hear anything but her breath coming steady, in great gasps, her back wet with the sweat of her exercise…

…and her ankle turned in between the a set of stones, and she toppled to the ground, her ankle smarting instantly. She broke the fall with her arms outstretched, and she turned in terror to find a man running toward her.

She screamed, crying out, “Help! Oh, help me!” she tried to stand, but her ankle wouldn't yield…she started to crawl on all fours, weeping…

“Jane!”

Loki…and she smiled through her tears, turning toward him. He reached her and knelt beside her.

“What happened?!” he was desperate, holding his hand out, and helping her to stand.

But Jane was crying too much to answer.

“Can you walk?”

She shook her head in response…so he lifted her.

Loki looked up and down the alley she had turned down. They were nearest to the apothecary, so he headed there, Jane a bundle of quaking sobs in his arms.

He didn't think beyond that, keeping his focus on holding her close.   He hadn’t seen where she had went after she left the pub, he was talking to a man about the shabby-genteel fellow spotted by the dubious witness. Then he heard her scream not ten minutes later.

They reached her shop and he placed her to the ground.

Jane wiped her tears and handed him the key from her leather pouch. Loki opened the door and led her inside, Jane sporting a fierce limp.

She sat at a chair. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

“What for?” he went in the back for some brew.

He was confused, upset, upset that he was confused…but he thought the he should cool Jane’s injury. He wondered briefly how he would get her home. Perhaps they should have gone there. He reentered the shop to find Jane crying in earnest.

“Oh, Loki…so much happened!” he went over to her and handed her some brew, and looked at her leg.

“Where does it hurt?”

“My ankle.” Loki nodded and began to wrap it with the rag. “Tell me what happened.”

“Well,” she swallowed, beginning. “I was at the Britannia, and I heard some men talking about the woman that the locals are suspicious of…” He looked up at her and sat on the floor, raising his eyebrows in question. “They think it’s me.”

He stared at her a moment, then began to laugh.

“What?” Jane demanded.

“You?” he said between gasps. “They suspect _you_? Why?” and he wiped his eyes from the streaming laughter at the thought. He stopped when he realized that Jane didn't share his amusement. He cleared his throat. “Go on.”

“Well…that day that John was brought in for questioning…I might have…well…” her eyes fell. “I might have threatened to rip his throat or some such thing.”

Loki stood, glaring at her, and went to lean against the counter. “You know, I think I may owe you an apology, Jane. You are not nearly as bright as I had thought.”

‘Shut up Loki. This is serious!”  

“Of course it is. Which is why I cannot fathom why you would be so incredibly stupid and say something like ‘rip your throat.’ That takes a certain mind to come up with that in the present climate.”

Jane huffed and glared. “Fine. You’re right. But what’s done is done. And now…well…it’s not clear that they know Jane Foster, apothecary is who uttered those words, but it wouldn't take much to figure it out.”

“No…we must watch you more closely,” he said mostly to himself.

Jane eyed him crookedly, but continued. “Then I left, and I went to the alley just round the corner, and I heard a man talking with a different sort of accent to a laborer about Mary Kelly again…and then the worker left, and I stayed…but I think he heard me because he said,” she swallowed. “‘I know you’re there.’ That’s when I ran for it.”

Loki just stared at her for a moment. He had heard her yell for him, specifically. “You are in great danger, Jane Foster.”

“Yes.”

“Let’s wait here a bit, then walk to Asgard. There are ways to make us comfortable there.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Jane \…” he passed, and looked at her very directly. “That we will be spending the night at the bookshop.”

Wide-eyed, she responded, “You and I? Alone?”

He smiled. ”Does that frighten you?”

“Yes,” she immediately responded. “I mean…no. Not exactly.”

“Well then. Let’s get you some tonic. And then we will see to our beds.” He left, and Jane swallowed.

She would be spending the night with Loki.


	12. A Night in Asgard

A Night in Asgard

Loki fetched a tonic for Jane and some medicinal herbs for pain. He had paid some attention to her while she mixed her remedies.

Who was he kidding? He always paid attention to her. 

And now…now they would be sleeping in close quarters…

It meant nothing. Nothing…he was keeping an eye on her, and she was in no state to make the twenty minute walk back home. Dr. Foster had entrusted Loki with his daughter, he had said to do whatever necessary to keep her safe. She could be rash.

Rash was an understatement. 

He thought about the best way to handle this as he mixed…there was a fainting couch in the apothecary…perhaps they should stay there.

But what if someone figured out that Jane was the suspect? What if the alley fellow had followed them? He hadn’t noticed anyone, but that didn't mean that it wasn’t possible. He had been in a state when carrying her.

He had blankets and such in Asgard from when he would stay there overnight. He did that a few times because he simply didn't want to go home…

Loki walked out into the shop and handed Jane the medicine. 

“Is this really necessary?” she asked, sipping the herb-filled tonic.

“Well, it may not have been if you took a bit more care with your opinion, but yes. I’m afraid that until we actively take some precautions and subdue the masses about your erroneous guilt, this is necessary. Also, the fact that you were approached in an alley by a strange man is of greater import, and he might know that you are injured.”

“So…what? I stay at Asgard until I’m healed?”

He laughed. “No, Jane. We’ll get you home in the morning. And I think, actually,” he crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. “You should stay at home next week.”

“What?!”

“Yes,” and he went to the fainting couch and lifted it. “It’s likely that we can clear your name in that time, and the man might lose interest.”

“He hasn't in Mary Kelly,” she whispered.

“No. But he might think you to be a prostitute. He also might have a personal score with Miss Kelly to settle.”

Jane shuddered. “Terrifying.”

“Indeed,” he put the couch down once more after reaching the door. “It is possible that he isn't the killer, you know.”

“I know,” she rose. Good lord it hurt, but the medicine and wrap quelled it ever so slightly.

He nodded. “This is what we shall do. You get on the other side and make as though you are helping me carry this, but I’ll do the work. That way it won’t be suspicious with your limp. It is cumbersome.”

Jane nodded and opening the door, peered left and right. It was after seven, and the streets were dark. The oil lamps were being lit all around, so the fellow whose charge that was was the only soul about. She turned and nodded to Loki. He brought the couch out and Jane locked the door, then got behind him and put her hands on the furniture. She limped along behind him, her ankle aching with every step. 

They reached the bookshop after what seemed like days to Jane, and Loki unlocked the door, hurrying her inside. 

She looked around…she had never slept anywhere save her own bed and a tavern once while traveling with her father. This would be odd on many levels. “So…where are we sleeping?”

Loki swallowed and looked at her. “Well…” surely she meant where are the beds going. Beds, plural. He looked at the fainting couch. There wasn't enough room on it for both of them, anyway. Stop it, Loki. “I reckon I’ll put the couch just there for you…” he pointed to in front of the counter. “And I can kip there,” he pointed to the floor across from her at the front door.

Jane nodded. “All right,” she sat. “Are you certain that you don't want the couch?”

“And what sort of gentleman would I be if I allowed an injured lady take her repose on the dusty floor of a bookshop?” he smiled and went to the back to procure some blankets and such. “It is unfortunate,” he called in. “That there is little in terms of food here. Have you anything at the apothecary?”

“Erm…” Jane thought. “There might be something in the back…some apples and bread…I think I purchased enough for a few days.”

Loki reentered and went about seeing to the beds. “Well, I can run and check. It won’t do to go to bed on an empty stomach.”

“No,” she swallowed. Any mention of bed caused her unease. She was being so silly, she really ought to stop. 

“Will you be all right for a few minutes?”

“Of course,” she smiled.

“Very well. May I have the key?”

Jane nodded and handed him the key. “In the back room, under the table there…the…”  

“Wooden shelf?” he smiled.

She returned his smile and dropped her eyes. “Thank you for taking such good care of me, Loki.”

He was looking at her intently. “My pleasure,” but it came out in a choke. He cleared his throat. “I’ll be right back.”

Jane was left there, and her mind wouldn't cease its reel.  
She was a suspect.  
She was chased from an alley, possibly by the killer.  
He might have seen her face.  
She was spending the night, alone, with Loki.

Impossible situations.

Jane limped to the fainting couch and sat down. She thought that she’d need to remove her corset and some other things in order to get comfortable enough for sleep…that wouldn't be awkward. She sighed and rolled her eyes. She then turned and put her feet up, sighing with relief the elevation afforded her. 

A few moments later Loki walked back into the shop, parcel in hand, locking the door behind him. “Apples, bread, and a smidgen of cheese, m’lady,” he said with a smirk.

Jane smiled. “That’ll do nicely.”

“So…I see you’ve made yourself comfortable. Doesn’t take much, does it?”

“Well, I assumed, you being a proper gentleman, that you’d want for me to situate myself in such a way that I’d be the most at ease. Was I mistaken?”

“Not at all, Jane. But you should cease your endless protests,” he handed her a small plate of food.

  “What protests?”

“Oh, let me see. Every time I suggest anything it is met with argument.”

  “That is not so.”

“Thank you for proving my point,” he laughed and pulled a chair closer to Jane. 

She laughed. “Oh, all right then. Perhaps you have a point. It’s almost as though we were an old married couple, is it not?”

Loki snapped his eyes to her. “We are not married, Jane Foster,” he sounded almost angry. 

“I know…I only meant…” she couldn't understand his tone.

“I know what you meant. That it was preposterous to even think that we were in such a state as marriage.”

“No! No…I meant that…” what did she mean? “It was just a silly observation. One I thought you’d laugh at,” Jane dropped her eyes and played with her food, suddenly not so hungry.

“Why? Because it is ridiculous, yes?”

She looked at him. “Yes, Loki. Because it is ridiculous,” she wanted him to stop. She believed that agreeing with him would accomplish this…

…and it did, though now he was uncomfortably quiet, playing with his food now, too.

“Look. I’m sorry I said anything,” she sighed. “I never meant anything beyond how we ordinarily speak to one another. Please don't be cross,” and she reached over and touched his hand.

Loki looked at her hand resting on his, and he felt a jolt. He steadied himself…then raised his eyes to hers. “No need to beg, Jane. I could never be cross at you.”

She retrieved her hand, having felt a surge from the action. “Never say never, Loki,” she smiled. “In fact, I’m quite certain that you are cross with me half of the time,” she laughed with an air of unease.

“Not at all,” he swallowed and looked away. “Jane?”

“Hm?” she took a bite of bread.

“Why did you never marry?”

“I’m hardly too old to marry…”

“I know. But…most ladies do so much younger,” he still wasn't looking at her.

Jane decided this wasn't an issue worth pressing. “Well, I suppose I never felt inclined to do so. I only ever really fancied one bloke,” she laughed at her terminology. “Though I suppose he wasn't a bloke, as it were. And he hardly knew I existed, though I always liked him, oddly.”

Loki looked up at her. It seemed rather like she was…no…”Who was the fellow?” he asked a bit too hopefully.

“You’ll laugh.”

  “I will do no such thing.”

Jane blushed, then laughed a touch. “Thor.”

And Loki’s stomach fell..his face with it. “Thor?” he breathed. “You fancied Thor?”

“Only for a short while. It was nothing. Less than nothing,” she didn't like the look he was giving her.

He stood. “I…” he needed out. “I need some air. Excuse me.”

“Loki!” Jane called, but he didn't look back. 

What was that?

 

Loki went to the back of his store and outside, breathing the stale air deeply. Of all the people in the wide world, it had to be Thor. Thor, the only person whom he ever felt jealous of. Thor, who was everyone’s favorite…he was Jane’s favorite, too, apparently. 

Loki ran his hand through his hair and attempted to steady himself. 

Good lord he was far gone…and when he heard her scream…

He closed his eyes and swallowed. He had thought so many awful things. 

…and was so relieved to see that it was only a hurt ankle.

His heart had nearly stopped…saw her crawling on the ground…

Loki held himself close and forced himself to concentrate on getting through the thought of Jane fancying Thor. Thor. 

How inconceivable! How abhorrent! He never would have guessed it. Perhaps she wasn't as bright nor as desirable as he thought.

No…she was.

He merely didn't realize that she had ever paid attention to his brother.  
Of course she would have…she saw him, didn't she? That alone warranted attention.

Thor was handsome.  
Loki was not.  
Thor was amicable.  
Loki was not.  
Thor was valiant.  
Loki was not…

The list went on, and he wouldn't depress himself further by listing all of the attributes he lacked. 

Did it matter to him that Jane fancied Thor once? Yes, if he was being honest. It did…

Did it quell his fancy? 

He opened his eyes…

“Loki?” she touched his back. 

He turned around. “Jane…what are you doing up and about?”

“I was…erm…worried about you…I didn't mean anything…”

“Hush, now. Let’s get you inside,” he took her elbow and began to guide her back in. 

“No,” she pulled away. “I want to talk about this.”

‘Inside, Jane. We can talk if you like.”

She looked at him crookedly, then acquiesced. She hobbled in, then sat back on the couch while Loki locked the back door. Jane folded her hands on her lap and waited patiently.

He came in, fussed with some things, in apparent avoidance of talking with Jane. Finally, he sat and cleared his throat. “Now. What would you like to discuss?”

“Thor.”

He rolled his eyes. “I can think of at least a hundred things I’d rather discuss, including Her Majesty’s dinner menu.”

“Loki…”

“I understand she prefers her beef rare.”

“Loki!” she laughed. “What happened between you and Thor?”

He sighed heavily and sat back in his chair. “There really isn't much of a story, Jane. Thor was always the favorite with everyone, and I rather resented it.”

“So…you think that I like Thor more than you?” she smiled.

“Oh yes. And I will be quite cross and refuse to allow you to play in the yard with me or sit next to me in the schoolhouse if you don’t change your mind immediately,” he laughed.

“Well, I’ve never seen you behave like that. It must have struck a nerve…”

Loki rubbed his face, then leaned on his knees with his elbows and looked at her. “I cannot deny that I consider you to be my particular friend. The fact that you were even acquainted with my brother never occurred to me. Is it childish, yes. But the feelings are rooted in childhood, so I suppose that is my excuse.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?” he contorted his face a bit.

“I do. And that is why I’m yours and yours alone, Loki,” Jane said with a serious look.

He swallowed. “Now, Jane. Let’s keep her heads.”

“I am…” she stood gingerly and went to him, took his hands in hers, and raised him to standing. 

His heart was thrumming….what was she doing? “Jane?”

And she pulled him into a hug. She had meant to chide him a bit for being so silly, but then she couldn't do it. He seemed so sincere. She rested her cheek on his chest, and rubbed circles on his back. 

And lord he hoped she couldn't hear his heart beating…he returned her embrace, and swallowed. “Thank you for your kind words, Jane,” he pulled away, keeping his hands on her arms. 

“I meant them,” she said. And she did…”You are so very dear to me, and Thor was never anything but…”

He stopped her with a finger to her mouth. “I don’t want to talk about Thor any longer,” he dropped his finger and taking her hand, led her to the fainting couch. “Lay down,” he commanded, albeit gently.

She did, never taking her eyes off of him. 

Loki covered her with the blankets…

“Loki?”

“Hm?”

“I need to get out of my corset.”

He stared at her. “I…”

She looked crookedly at him. “No! I can do it, but would you mind going to the back of the store for five minutes?”

“Of course,” he laughed…and went to the back. He stood, leaning against the wall next to the doorway. 

Jane was in the other room, taking her clothes off…

He would be such a knave to steal a glance…

He never claimed to be virtuous….

Loki leaned over, peering out into the shop. He saw Jane, but she was facing the door…he saw her bare back, she had just undid her corset, and her supple skin moved with her in the dim of the shop. 

And though he saw nothing of consequence, he became overwrought and turned away…

He swallowed and his breaths came heavy….

“Loki?”

“Yes?” he croaked.

“I’m finished.”

He nodded to himself and rubbed his hands on his pants. They had began to pearl sweat.

He walked back out into the shop, and noticed that Jane had laid down and covered herself.

He went over to his makeshift bed on the floor and undid his belt, took his shirt off…

Jane was watching…his long, sinewy frame silhouetted in the moonlight…she snapped her eyes shut. It wouldn't do to watch a private moment like this. 

But she peeked…he ran his hand through his longish hair, then laid down himself. “Loki?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you, for doing all this.”

“My pleasure, Jane Foster.”

She sighed heavily and laid on her back.

Loki rolled over and faced the door. 

It might be a very long night. 

 

At about four am by the bell’s chime, Loki heard a disturbance. He had only fallen into a deep sleep a couple of hours previous. He sat up, ramrod straight, and looked around. 

Nothing.

And then he heard it again…

It was Jane.

And she was whimpering. 

“Jane!” he hissed.

Nothing. 

He got up and went to her…”Jane,” he touched her arm. 

Her eyes flew open, and she screamed. 

He covered her mouth with his hand. “Hush. It’s me, you’re dreaming.”

Overcome, she pulled his hand away and pulled him to her, her arms in a wrap around his shoulders…

Loki landed, rather awkwardly, on top of Jane. “What are you doing?” he whispered.

“Oh god…am I still dreaming?”

“No,” he attempted to sit up.

“You mean…you’re real?”

“Jane Foster, what are you on about?” and he freed himself and looked at her incredulously.

“Oh, Loki! can you stay?”

“I’m just over there, Jane. What is the matter?”

“No no…awful, horrific nightmares…can you sleep next to me?”

He stared at her and swallowed. She was asking him to sleep next to her. How he was to accomplish this, he had no idea. “I’ll stay for a few minutes,” he placated her.

She smiled widely, and moved over to allow him what little room the couch afforded. 

He laid on his back, she draped herself over him. 

No. This wasn't going to work.

He rolled onto his side, facing the door, away from her…and felt her breath on his naked back. This was a slow torture. There would be a special place in hell for Jane Foster after this, he was certain. 

And then….he felt her arm snake his waist, pulling herself closer. 

He gulped, and pulled the blanket up around him. 

He fell asleep not long thereafter, Jane’s steady breath lulling him into slumber.


	13. Morning, Glory, and September Fades

Morning, Glory, and September Fades

Jane heard laughter. 

Laughter…what on earth?

She opened her eyes, and found herself wrapped around Loki. On her fainting couch. In Asgard. And she moved, and her ankle screamed.

“Ouch!” she said, and Loki stirred. He wasn't the one laughing, apparently.

Jane looked up, and saw Fandral standing above them. “Well well well. What have we here?”

“Fandral?” Loki said thickly.

“It’s so sweet the way you say my name through sleep’s haze, Loki. But you should know that I saw your brother Thor and your father just over yonder fetching breakfast.”

Loki stood up immediately from the couch. He was a mess, and sporting…Fandral’s eyes dropped, he coughed, and turned away.

Blast! Loki turned away from Jane adjusting himself and his pants, while retrieving his shirt from the floor. 

“Loki…?”

He was looking out of the window, buttoning his shirt, running his hand through his hair attempting to tame it. “Jane…you must hide,” he picked the things up from the floor and turned to Fandral. “Go and detain them. Distract them for at least ten minutes.”

“I don’t recall aiding my employer in avoiding family members being part of my job,” he smirked.

“If you value that job at all, you’ll do as I say,” Loki spat. 

Fandral smirked. “Mornin’ Miss Foster,” he tipped his hat and left.

“Loki,” repeated Jane after smiling and nodding at Fandral.

“Now, Jane…” he was cleaning up from the night previous’s food and such. “I know that nothing improper occurred, but we must not allow Thor or Odin to see you here. They will think ill of you and I won’t have that…” he studied the couch with Jane on it. “Hm. I suppose I can claim it as my own for the moment. Tell Odin that I was thinking about adding a reading area…”

Jane looked around the shop. The fainting couch was much too big for the space. Odin would notice that immediately. “Tell him you’re holding it for me while I have some work done at the shop.”

“Excellent!” he clapped his hands. “Now, you must leave posthaste, Jane.”

“But…”

“No buts. Let’s see…you are injured, perhaps…”

“Loki!” Jane yelled.

“What now Jane.”  

She rolled her eyes. “Now I recall why it was so irksome having you visit the shop every day,” she smiled. “Look…why don’t I just go in the back, dress myself properly, then pretend that I entered through the back way to greet you? Nothing suspicious in that. You just need to keep your father and Thor out here,” she smiled. 

“Brilliant,” he whispered, slightly in awe.

“I have my moments. Now, can you help me at all?” she attempted to get up, and Loki was at her side, holding her arm.

Jane leaned over to grab her corset…

…and Loki, recalling the night before when he stole a glance, slid his gaze down her front, and he noticed the swell of her breast, and he felt himself stir a bit persistently.

He snapped himself out of it, and walked with Jane to the back. 

“Now, don’t drop anything. Or make any noise. Or…”  

“Yes. I know. I need to keep as silent as possible,” she nodded, rolled her eyes, smiling all the while, and closed the door. 

What was Odin doing here? He hadn’t been to Spitalfields in ages. Loki began opening up the shop in earnest, not knowing the time, but assuming it past eight thirty, as Fandral had been there. 

He fixed his clothes as best he could, pulled a comb from behind the counter, and ran it thorough his hair.

After Thor and Odin left, he’d see Jane home. 

He stopped and thought about the early morning hours in the shop…Jane wrapped around him, breathing softly.

He sighed and closed his eyes. 

He would never say it…never admit…

He did not dare to hope.

Fandral came in just then. “Well, it seems that your family are in town on business and won’t be able to stop by until much later,” he paused. “Erm…sorry?” he wasn't sure what he should say, as Loki had been behaving oddly. Understandable, since he had just slept in his shop with Jane Foster. Though Fandral was fairly certain little sleep had occurred. 

Loki was staring blankly at Fandral. “Did you speak with them?”

“I did, yes.”

“And they said that they did not wish to see me?”

“No…they said that they were going to a meeting and would see you later.”

Loki’s brow was furrowed, and he went to the window, peering out.

“Ah…Loki? Everything all right?”

“Fine,” he said, examining the street.

“You don’t seem…”  

Loki turned around and stared at him. “I said that I was fine, man!” He went to the front door and slammed it shut. 

At that, Jane opened the back door. “Good morning, Loki,” Jane said smilingly, then looked around. “What’s going on?”

Fandral smiled at her. “It appears that our friend here is having a tantrum.”

“There is where you are mistaken, Fandral.”

“Oh, not a tantrum? What would you call it?”

“I meant that we weren't friends,” he hissed. “Come, Jane. I’ll see you home.”

“Ah…” she looked inquiringly at Fandral…a 'help me' on her face.

He shrugged and opened the door for them both. “Will you be in later, boss?”

“I don’t know,” he spat, leaving at a brisk pace.

He must have forgotten Jane’s injury, for she hobbled out, rather pathetically…not even bothering to call after him to wait. She smiled as she passed Fandral. “What happened?” she whispered.

“His brother and father had a meeting and they said they’d be by later,” his face registered confusion. “Good luck.” 

Jane fancied that Fandral seemed to suggest that she needed luck a lot when she was around Loki. Perhaps he knew something that she didn’t. 

She sighed as she limped across the Market…the shops were all open now and the carts were out. 

Perhaps she should go and see to her own charge…but she took one look at Loki’s back and thought the better of asking. 

…her mind drifted to the night previous, watching his back in the moonlight…

She snapped herself out of it. “Loki!” she called, friendly in tone.

He stopped, not turning toward her. 

“You’ll need to slow your pace a bit if you want me to keep up at all,” she reached him, smiling.

He nodded, eyes on the ground. 

“Everything all right?”

“No, everything is not all right,” he replied with irritation. “Can we keep moving, please? I need to see you home and return to Asgard.”

She put her hand on his arm and turned him toward her. “If that is going to be your attitude, I can certainly see myself home.”

“Fine,” he spat. “You’re just like them all, Jane Foster. But infinitely worse since you pretend to care. When I see Thor this evening, I’ll alert him to your feelings, the two of you would make the perfect pair.”  

“What?” she breathed, dropping her hand.

“Oh yes! Thor is all things amiable and false. He is brawny and brainless…you see where I’m going with this?”

Loki’s voice was raised, and the people of the market were beginning to look. There would be gossip, Jane was certain. She took his elbow and led him away from the center street. “How dare you!”

“Oh, but I do. I dare…I was shocked, to be sure, by your admission. But having slept on it, it truly makes sense. There is no depth to you, Miss Foster. Your rash behavior is proof positive of that sentiment.”

There were tears in her eyes now. “Loki…” she didn't know if she was more hurt or angry. Her face flushed pink, her eyes shone…her hands shook a touch. “I do not know the cause for this speech, but I truly hope that these are not your true opinions of me. We have become closer these past weeks than I’ve ever been with anyone, save my father. I am sorry if I shocked you with my admission about your brother, but I was being honest. And I was being honest when I said that it was nothing but a passing fancy. Was it intense while I felt it? Yes…but only because I had never felt that way before. I am a late joiner in everything, I suppose,” her eyes dropped. “I think that you might be right about me staying at home for the week,” she looked at him once more. “And I’ll see you next Monday,” Jane walked away, limping and squinting in pain.

He almost called after her. 

Almost.

But he was seething with pain and hurt and anger, and he knew that he was in no state to make amends….he hadn’t meant to be so hurtful, but when his temper flared, that was what happened. He did it to Odin and Frigga, and landed in Asgard. 

Jane was right. They needed a break. 

He turned, head down, and went back to the shop. 

“Well, that was quick,” observed Fandral at the ring of the bell.

“Do shut up Fandral,” Loki replied. “What’s more, it could have been a customer, you didn't even look up from your book.”

  “Oh, yes. A customer. You’re quite right. What are those again?”

“What do I pay you for, man?! You sit here, like a potato, you read, make your comments…”

“You pay me to spy on your family, as was evidenced just a…” Fandral looked at his watch. “Hang on. You couldn't have walked Jane…”

“I didn’t,” and Loki went to the back for some brew. He steadied himself on the table with his hands…he was so disappointed in himself for behaving thus. As though he hadn’t grown at all.

He knew this to be false, of course, but it certainly felt that way after that morning’s display. Whenever Odin or Thor became involved in anything, Loki was immediately a child again.

…and what he said to Jane…

He closed his eyes and swallowing, went back into the shop and handed Fandral a cup. “You’ll pardon my bad behavior, Fandral. I am not myself when my father or brother are involved.”

“No.”

“No,” he smiled and leaned across from his employee, resting his elbows on the counter. 

“What happened, Loki?”

“What do you mean?” he sipped.

“What do I…?” he shook his head. “Take your pick.”

Loki sighed heavily and sat down on the couch left there by Jane. “Well, I haven’t got the best relationship with my father or Thor.”

“No,” Fandral replied sarcastically.

“I’ll thank ye to allow me let me finish.”

He nodded, then went and sat in the chair opposite Loki.

“At any rate, Thor was always quite…how should I put it…well liked? No. That’s an understatement…adored, more like. Especially by our father. And I suppose…well. I tried many times to gain his approval. Nothing impressed him. When I was in my mid twenties…I had befriended a lady…she fell in love with Thor…” he swallowed, recalling just how similar the situations were between Sif and Jane. “…and I…rather lost my head. Temper. Said awful things. And Odin put me here,” he waved his hands around the shop, then rested his eyes on Fandral.

“I see. But that wasn't really what I was curious about.”

“What, then?”

  “Jane.”

“Ah…” Loki shifted. He thought that he shouldn't be discussing this…but Fandral was…hm. Good with ladies? Perhaps he should confide. “Well…Jane injured herself last evening. She also has gotten herself into some trouble. Made herself a suspect.”

“What?” he breathed. “How?”

“Jane is indelicate. She threatened a man who was cornering John Pizer with a knife,” he paused. “No one, I believe, has put the two together…but I aim to speak with Selvig and have him publicly dismiss the notion that a woman is a suspect.”

“Very good. Now…how did she hurt herself?”

“That is a bit more concerning…Jane was in an alley by the Britannia, and she heard two men speaking…” he paused, looked at Fandral intently. “Actually, we think it’s the same foreign fellow we referred to before. He mentioned Mary again, Fandral.”

Fandral shifted. He nodded. “Go on.”

“Well, he heard Jane in the alley, and she bolted…fell, twisted her ankle. I brought her back to the shop here and we slept.”

“Slept?”

“That’s right.”

“You…just slept?” he smirked. 

“Of course we just slept! What do you take me for?”

“A man in love,” he replied.

Loki stared. He swallowed. He fidgeted. “Well. That’s just…I mean to say…”

Fandral laughed. “Why didn't you see her all the way home? Bad form, Loki.”

“We argued,” he muttered.

“I see…now this I can help you with.”  

“I do not require your help,” he smugly said.

“Oh? What are your plans regarding this mess?”

“Jane said that she’d see me Monday.”

“Mm. Brilliant…” he paused dramatically. “No.”

“No?”  

“Absolutely not. Now, you don't need to take my advice in any other circumstance save this one. I have plenty of experience with cross ladies. In about two days, call on her and inquire after her injury. Perhaps bring her something she might enjoy while she heals. Apologize, then leave. Don’t overdo it. Be sincere, but brief. Make no confessions. And then see her on Monday,” he sat back, satisfied. 

“Dr. Fandral,” Loki smirked.

“Have you a better idea?”

“Well, I rather had the same one. Except I was going to wait until I spoke to Selvig and had that mess sorted, so it gave me a solid excuse to call.”

“Very good,” he nodded. “So…you admit that you love her?” he was eager.

Loki stood. “We are running a business, here Fandral. Not a knitting circle.”

“Come, Loki…just out with it! It’ll do you well to say it aloud!”

“I don’t know what you mean,” and he went to the back of the shop to see to his ledgers.

“Poor Jane Foster,” he shook his head and tidied up the shop.

....

It took her quite a while. Much longer than she would have thought. 

Jane hobbled up the steps, cringing with every step, then opened the door. 

“Jane Foster get in here now,” came Dr. Foster’s voice.

“Damn,” she muttered. She took off her wrap and hat and set her other things down. She made her way into the sitting room, where she discovered, quite shockingly, her father, standing.

And in his place in the chair sat Odin.

And in her chair sat Thor.

“Oh…” she gasped, swallowing. 

“Where have you been,” her father demanded. 

“I…” she wavered, and grasped the side table by the door to steady herself.

“She’s unwell,” said Thor, going to her. 

“No no…it’s just my ankle…” 

“Jane, what is the matter?” Dr. Foster went to her and eased her onto the shabby sofa. 

“I hurt my ankle,” she explained. “I…” she thought a moment, looking at the three men eyeing her intently. She should tread very lightly. “Well. I was walking last night, as is my habit, and the stone was wet in a concentrated spot. I slipped on the wet, and twisted it. My ankle. And Loki helped me and tended to my injury.”

“You were out doing your investigating, is that it?” her father asked.

Jane looked warily around at the Odinson’s. 

“They know, Jane. Whatever Loki didn't tell them, I provided the details for.”

“Ah. Well, yes. That’s right. And he wrapped my ankle and gave me medicine…”

“And why are you come at…” Odin checked his pocket watch. “Ten in the morning?”

“Well…we decided that I couldn't walk home…” she wouldn't divulge the information about the man in the alley, but perhaps about her being a suspect…the Odinson’s might be able to offer some aid. “Both because of my injury,” she lowered her eyes. “And because last evening I discovered that some of the locals think me the killer,” she gulped, waiting for a reaction. 

It was decidedly silent. 

“What do you mean, you are a suspect? To the police?” Thor asked.

Evidently, the other men were shocked beyond reason.

“Well…here’s the thing,” she let out a steady breath. “Last week, when they found John Pizer, I was there…they took him from the alley behind the apothecary…and I…well. I know that John is innocent, and this bloke was just screaming about him being the killer, and I told him to shut up or I’d…” she paused. “I’d rip his throat.”

Dr. Foster let out a groan.

Odin sighed loudly.

Thor chuckled. “Well Jane. You have fire.”

“Do be quiet, Thor. This is a right mess,” Odin stood. “I suppose we should go to Scotland Yard and have them make some sort of announcement.”

“All right,” Thor nodded. He shook Dr. Foster’s hand. “We’ll clear your daughter’s name, sir,” he turned to Jane. “Keep that ankle up,” he winked.

And Jane resented the action. That was how her fancy had begun, and now Loki hated her for it. 

And she felt sick at the thought that he hated her…

The Odinson’s left her and her father after a moment. 

“I know that your mother is long gone, Jane,” her father sat across from her. “But that doesn’t mean that you cannot come to me about matters…erm…” he cleared his throat. “Matters of a…sensitive nature.”

Jane looked at him and smiled. “I know.”

“So…you spent the night with Loki, did you?”

She fiddled with her skirts. “Yes…but if you are asking me if any activities of a carnal nature occurred, rest assured, he was a perfect gentleman.”

“So…”  

“Nothing happened,” well…almost nothing. She did sleep next to him in a tangle while he had no shirt on…

He nodded. “You are a fully grown woman, Jane. Even if something were to have happened, I wouldn't think less of you.”

“Yes you would,” she laughed.

“No. These things happen all of the time. Do I wish for you to be married before you lose your virginity…?” he paused.

“Yes, father. I am a virgin.”

He nodded once more. “But if you loved the man you had relations with, I would think no less of you or the fellow.”

“I’m not in love, father.”

“Very well…” he stood. “Now. Can I get you something for the pain?”

“No…I just want to get to my bed,” and Jane stood. It was sore still, but felt slightly better…it was certainly not broken. Merely sprained. 

She made her way up the stairs and into bed…

…and fell into dreamless sleep.

....

“So we are all clear on this, son?” Odin sat across from Loki at his son’s flat.

“Yes.”

“And things are better?” 

Loki looked at him. Were they? “I suppose.”

“You understand that Thor and I were come because of our concern over you and this hideous murderer.”

“Hm, yes,” he drank the rest of his brandy. 

“Loki…” Thor began.

Loki cringed. “What.”

“Don’t be cross…we are certainly here for a visit. But those things needed tending to. 'The Times' will publish the story in the morning about how no woman is suspected by Scotland Yard, and all will be well.”

“I wish that you would take more care, Loki…” Odin added. “Which is why, I have decided, to alert the Home Office about my increase in reward money.”

Loki snapped his gaze to his father. “Increase?”

“Just so. I shall be offering five hundred pounds for any information regarding the identity of the killer.”

Loki’s face split into a wide smile.

“That is the happiest I’ve seen you in ages, brother,” Thor observed. 

“Thank you, father,” he said with emotion.

“Your welfare has always been my concern…and now that you’ve roped poor Jane Foster in, I must take some responsibility,” he replied with a smirk.

“Poor Jane Foster,” he muttered. “This was all her idea.”

“Don’t take your mood out on her, Loki. What’s more, you should call on her,” Thor rose. “She is in much discomfort.”

“I thank you for your advice, Thor. It is always most welcome," he replied thick with sarcasm.

Thor shrugged. “It is what I observed. Shall we, father?”

Odin nodded and stood as well. “Do send us a note here and there, Loki. Your mother and I worry.”

Loki nodded and standing, shook his father’s hand. Then his brother’s. “Good night,” he said.

And they took their leave…

Loki sat a good long while thinking about what had transpired. They visited with Dr. Foster as per an appointment…they had gone to Scotland Yard to see that Jane’s name was cleared. They then visited Loki at home, and supped with him.

It had not been awful. 

It had been, in all honesty, rather pleasant.

Was he over it all? No.

But it wasn't as biting as it once was.

And he would call on Jane in two days’ time…

....

September is an odd time for the ladies who walk. The days are deceivingly warm, the night forebodingly cold. 

Mary Kelly was walking on such a night, Fandral had called on her earlier and she satiated his concern with a kiss. 

She wandered over to Spitalfields Market, the oil lamps long lighted. There was no one about…

“And why is a lovely lady such as yourself wandering these streets at night?” came a voice.

“‘o’s there?” she peered into a darkish side street where the voice originated. 

A man with a tall hat and long overcoat emerged. He was quite genteel, refined…”No one of consequence,” he replied silkily.

“I…” she recalled Fandral’s warnings. “Jus’ on me way ‘ome, guvna.”

“Well, get thee gone,” said he, and with a sweep of his cloak, strode away hurriedly.

Mary turned and ran a bit. 

She, at least, hadn’t given her name. 

…and she reflected on how he said “thee”…for no one said that any longer.

She ran to Fandral’s and banged on the door.

She huddled close and banged again, louder.

He opened it, and she ran inside…

And though nothing else occurred that evening, a sinister dawn rose on Whitechapel. Blood red and cold…quiet…calm, and churning.


	14. The Rest of September. Really.

The Rest of September

Sir Charles Warren sported a fine mustache. That was really all anyone ever said about him with fondness.

He wasn't terribly well liked at Scotland Yard, but that wasn't his job. His job, as Police Commissioner, was to delegate and lead. Abberline, his head of the ground investigation in the Whitechapel murder cases, was well respected enough, and had told Warren on numerous occasions that the theory of a woman committing these crimes was absurd.

He didn't listen.

He was open to any and all possible suspects, and until they discovered the knave, he would continue to order all leads as viable. 

Until Lord Odinson came to the office and told him the story about the apothecary and to make an announcement regarding the fact no woman was being treated as a suspect oh and by the way here is fifty pounds. 

Then he listened.

What was baffling…what no one could figure, was there was no apparent motive. There was always a motive. Even if the culprit was insane, that was motivation. 

The Yard was absolutely baffled. No angry lovers. No theft. No apparent or obvious rape. 

“So…you’re saying that a woman is not on the suspect list?” asked a reporter from the Times.

“That’s right,” replied Warren, with an air of smugness. “Never has there been. I don’t know why these rumors get started…”

Because you never stop them, thought Erik Selvig in the back of the room. He had been listening to Warren for half and hour. He had enough…he would leave and walk to the Market.

Out the grimy door he went. He adjusted his cap and coat, and walked outside…the streets fairly full. Strange how everyone becomes suspicious when you’re geared up and tense. 

Selvig made his way to Spitalfields, nodding to passers-by he recognized, and those he didn’t. He was a kind enough man. 

Selvig walked passed the apothecary, noting it still to be closed…this was the third day. He thought it odd, and would ask Loki about it. He made his way to Asgard, and opened the door.

There was Loki, looking though some of his books stacked on the shelves, and Fandral, reading once more behind the counter. The bell announced his presence. 

“Mornin’ gentlemen,” he said.

“Selvig,” replied Loki from where he stood, not turning around. “You haven’t been around lately…” and now he turned, a large volume in hand.

“I have had nothing to report. I do now,” and he sat on the couch. “When did you get this? Seems a bit large for the space.”

“Loki is sentimental, Inspector. He houses things for people even when there isn't ample room for them.”

Loki didn't look at Fandral, but rolled his eyes…”I’m keeping it here for Jane for the time being.”

“Speaking of Miss Foster, is she all right? Hasn't been to her shop…”  

“She hurt herself,” replied Loki. “Injured her ankle.”

Selvig nodded. “Hm. Well, I’m visiting because I wanted to tell you that her name’s been cleared..that is, Warren made the announcement that no woman is being considered a suspect in the murders.”

“Very good,” Loki said, and began wrapping the book in brown paper, not looking at Selvig.

“Have you seen her? How did she injure herself?” 

And now he looked at the policeman. He had been thinking about this situation, and honestly didn't know what he should divulge to the police…if Selvig knew about the incident in the alley, would he insist that they cease their investigation? And what’s more, should they? Was it becoming too dangerous? 

He had decided to speak with Jane about this concern when he saw her later that day. “She fell walking home from work. There was a wet spot on the stone she didn't see.”

Fandral coughed. Loki kicked his shin from behind the counter.

This exchange wasn't lost on Selvig. “I see…” he said with a hint of doubt. “Those stones can be slippery.”  

“Indeed,” replied Loki. “We really ought to see to that. Something must be able to be done about it. Old women walk these streets all the time! They’ll break a hip and be a wretched mess.”

Fandral laughed. “Are you suggesting that someone dry the stones in the street?”

“Well… why not? Honest enough work,” and Loki went to the back.

Fandral looked at Selvig and shrugged. “He’s just worried about her,” he smiled.

“Indeed. Does she know he…?”

“No,” he whispered. “But I wish he would just say it. He won’t even admit it to me.”

“Admit what?” Loki reentered, apparently ready to leave for the day. His cap and jacket were on.

“I wasn't talking about you, boss,” Fandral replied cooly.

“You know, Fandral, I thought that I enjoyed you referring to me as ‘boss’, but I’m now thinking that it’s rather irritating.”  

“Oh, but you made it pretty plain that that was our relationship. We aren’t friends, recall?”

“You are a stubborn wench, Fandral. Do you require a trinket to set things right? Perhaps a bouquet or some sweets from the shop?”

Selvig stood. “This is all very interesting, and while I’d love to stay, there have been several murders in the area that I’m supposed to be helping with…you’ll forgive me…” and Selvig hurried out.

Loki looked at Fandral and laughed. “In all seriousness, though. I do hope that you’ll overlook my behavior the other day. I haven't said it since, and I ought to have, but I consider you a friend. In fact, you and Jane are my only friends…I wouldn't wish things to be permanently spoiled.”

Fandral smiled. “Love is a wonderful thing.”

“Shut up,” he turned and headed for the door.

“You’ll be telling her, I trust?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Loki said, leaving.

“Will you be back later?” he called.

“We’ll see.”

“I like daisies and the chocolates with the nuts!”

Slam. 

“Poor Jane Foster.”

....

Loki strolled down to Whitechapel Road toward Algate. He was a bit nervous, yes. He wasn't accustomed to groveling. But then, he certainly owed her an apology. He always seemed to hurt the ones he cared most for…

Except Fandral. He would need to see to that.

He smirked to himself.

The past few days were wretched without her. He thought over what they would need to do if it was decided that they continue this investigation…and he came to the conclusion that they would need to stay together.

He wasn't certain how Jane would receive that. Part of him thought that she would agree, for she was certainly frightened from what transpired that night. But she was stubborn, and might think that he was suggesting she couldn't take care of herself. There was some truth to that, but only insofar as everyone was in danger, and that she, in particular, could be rash. 

Rash.

He smiled. That she could…

And his mind once more after countless times heretofore drifted to the night in Asgard with her limbs wrapped around him, her body pressed against his, her breath a silent song to his ears…

He thought that he would never sleep when she suggested it…

…but he had never slept more soundly.

He arrived at the Foster’s row home and went up the stairs, and he knocked. 

“Ah, Loki. I was wondering when you’d be calling,” said Dr. Foster, allowing Loki passage.

“How is the patient?” he took his hat off and coat, but held onto the parcel.

“She is almost healed. Tomorrow should see her right. She’ll be back to the shop Saturday, since it is normally only a half day,” he smiled.

“Tomorrow she’ll be…?” Tomorrow was Friday, and he wondered what she’d do if she wasn't at the shop.

“Running errands that have piled up that I couldn't see to during her respite.”

Loki nodded. “Erm…might I…?”

“See her? Of course. She’s only just in the sitting room. I daresay she’s heard every word,” he smiled, then leaned in. “Tread carefully at first, my man. She is rather hurt,” and Dr. Foster went to the back kitchen to brew some tea.

Loki gulped. He hesitantly went into the room to find Jane sitting in her chair with her foot propped up on a stool. She was knitting, it seemed. 

He didn't know that she knitted. 

He cleared his throat.

“I heard you, Loki,” Jane said, not looking. “Have a seat.”

He looked away from her and sat on the sofa next to her. “Are you feeling better?”

“I am, thank you,” she continued her stitch.

“I am very glad to hear it.”

Nothing.

“So, Jane. I am come to tell you that the 'Times' will be publishing a dismissal of the notion that a woman is the person behind the Whitechapel murders.”

“That is good to know,” Jane said, then reached for the small table next to her and had a sip of lemon water. She still hadn’t looked at him.

“Quite. So…any notion that you are at all connected with these killings should be put to rest.”

“But the gossip won’t.”

“I’m sorry?”

  Now she looked at him. “Well, people believe what they want, don't they? You certainly do. What’s more, your display in the Market the other day was absurd and loud. People will talk…” she went back to her knitting.

“Do you honestly care about the idle chatter of the Market?”

“As a woman, I do. My reputation is much more easily sullied than yours, Mr. Odinson,” she looked at him now with a steady eye.

“We are back to ‘Mr. Odinson’, are we?” he leaned forward. 

“You’ll recall that I referred to you as such many times before this business began. I am respectful. I cannot speak for you.”

“Jane…” he lowered his eyes. “You’ll forgive me and my bad behavior. I was known to lose my temper quite frequently before I inherited Asgard…unfortunately, when Thor or Odin are involved, I tend to revert back to my old self.”

“And so everyone who cares for you must pay the price for your lapses into childhood?”

He looked at her. “Cares?” he searched her face. “You care for me?”

“You’re my friend, Loki,” she smiled. “Of course I care for you…more than anyone, really, save my father. I believe I’ve told you as much.”

“You have,” he said softly. “I simply cannot believe it.”

“Why ever not?” her brow furrowed in confusion.

“I am abrasive, sarcastic, irritable, a snob. I dislike most people. I prefer, ordinarily, solitude above all else…”

“Well. Since you put it that way, I might need to rethink my position,” she smiled.

Loki laughed. “No one likes me, Jane.”

“Fandral does. Your parents do…Thor…” she added and dropped her eyes. “And me.”

He sighed. “I don’t deserve you.”

She looked at him. His expression was warm…almost awestruck. “Loki, it simply isn't a matter of deserving anything. I enjoy your company. And I think, despite it all, that you are a good person. You are too absorbed by the value of things. Sometimes things just are.”

He smiled and looked down. “You forgive my horrific behavior, then?”

She crossed her arms in front of her. “Let’s put you on probation and take you up for review in a fortnight.”

He chuckled, and looked at her once more. “So, shall we continue next week, or do you think we should step back and allow the police to take over?” he sat back in the sofa.

“Step back?!”

His hands went up. “All right, Jane. Don’t upset yourself.”

“How can we step back? The killer is still at large! We cannot simply sit idly by while he walks free! Free to kill again! I’m shocked, Loki.”

“It was only a suggestion based on…”

Her eyes went wide and she shook her head slowly.

He took the hint. Dr. Foster didn't know about the details of her injury, either. “…your recent injury and suspicion…”  

“No. We aren’t stopping.”

“Very well. I know better than to argue with you…but I would like to posit a suggestion, one I hope you take very seriously.”

“All right…”

“I think that we should not split up anymore…that we should stay together…eavesdrop more and talk less.”

Jane swallowed. This made sense. She needed to be mindful of herself and what she was doing…her father depended on her. She lowered her eyes. “I think that that is a fine idea.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“You have nothing more to say than that?”

“No.”

“Well, wonders never cease!” he smiled.

“Shut up Loki,” she chuckled.

“Selvig was by,” he continued. “I thought that I might speak with you and decide…” he paused. “That is…”

“This is something that we can discuss on Saturday, I think,” she nodded, in apparent understanding. 

“Very well,” he dropped his gaze, and swallowed. “I brought something for you,” he said, reaching for the brown paper wrapped parcel.

“You did?” Jane asked, in apparent shock.

“Yes…for you while you heal. I suppose I should have brought it earlier, but…circumstances being what they were…” he handed it to her. 

Jane accepted it and tore open the package.

It was a book.

On astronomy…

“Loki…” she breathed, touching it delicately, adoringly.

“I recall, some time ago now, you mentioning that you always loved the night sky, but with the lamps and the air in London, it was difficult to see.”

Jane looked at him, an air of confusion…and then she remembered…

...She had been at the shop rather late…it was May, and she had been cleaning for the warm weather. Loki had not been to the apothecary in a few days, so when he arrived so late, she was surprised. 

“Well, Loki. Haven't seen you in a while.”

“No…been busy with things at the shop.”

“Your new hire giving you problems?”

“He’s hardly new, Jane. Been there since before Christmas.”

“Has it been that long?” she whispered. “I suppose I get so wrapped up in things here that I forget and lose track of time.”  

“You should allow yourself to stop and admire things…”  

Jane smiled. “Such as?” she locked the door to the shop.

“Whatever you fancy. Gardens…books…”  

She looked up. “The night sky…” she added wistfully.

“Pardon?”

“I love the stars. But I never really think to look up…silly. Something as common as that, and I never do it.”

“Well, you should,” they made their way toward Whitechapel Road.

“The lamps obstruct the view…the air is too thick. One can never really get a proper view in London…”....

“That’s right. I did say that,” and she turned back to the book, and began to look through it delicately, as though it was something quote precious.

“I pay attention,” he said, watching her.

Jane looked at him. “Thank you,” she breathed. “It’s perfect.”

He smiled. “Well,” and he slapped his knees. “Saturday, Jane?”

She nodded, still absorbed.

And Loki, pleased, went to the entryway and putting his hat and coat on, left.

And Jane tarried among the stars that night…

.....

 

Saturday morning dawned grey and sick.

But Jane was light.

Her ankle all but healed, she walked briskly to the market, so happy to be out and about again. She opened the shop, noting the stale scent from being shut up all week, and opened the windows with a disappointing deep breath stymied by the scents of the Market. No, London. Actually, all of it. 

She sighed and wiped the counter down.

“Morning, Jane,” Loki’s voice came from the doorway.

“You’re here early, Mr. Odinson.”

  He was momentarily disappointed…”I…thought that you had forgiven my behavior,” he hadn’t moved from the doorway.

“I recall saying that you were on probation,” she smiled. 

And now he entered fully. “I see…so does that probationary period state that you must not call me Loki?”

“It states that,” and Jane walked from behind the counter and sat on her chair. “Miss Foster may choose whatever method she deems necessary to test Mr. Odinson’s resolve. So long as it is respectful.”

He sat opposite her. “That seems rather much, wouldn't you say? Whatever method she deems necessary? Should I be afraid?”

“Do you question my decision?”

He smirked, sitting back. “I wouldn't dare.”

“Good. Now, you wanted to discuss…”  

“Mornin’ Miss Fosta!” an eager young man burst into the apothecary. 

“Oh! Freddy Church!” she got up to greet the young man, taking his hands in hers. “How are you? And your mother?”  

“She be in a right state, Miss. Wifout ye bein’ open, she be ‘urtin’…”

“Oh, I am sorry. I’ve been injured.”

“Dat I ‘eard…ye be better…I ‘ope…”

“Oh yes,” she turned away and went to mix her ingredients.

“I’ll call later, Jane,” Loki called, a bit put out. She should have closed the door so that they could speak privately.

“Later, Loki!” she called back.

And he smiled, leaving the shop.

He went to the bookshop, noting that the Market was once again more full up. Slowly, without another murder in recent weeks, people were returning to normalcy. It was the 22nd, and life must go on.

Loki couldn't deny, as he navigated the Market, that there was an almost constant sense of heaviness and foreboding in the East End since early August. It could be that he imagined it, since he had become so invested in the murders. But he thought not.

“Well, Loki. She didn't want to see you?”

He entered Asgard with a dramatic opening of the door. “She most certainly did,” he hung up his coat. “This place smells odd, Fandral. Perhaps you should clean it.”

He didn't look up from his book. “Wood floors will often mold,” he replied, turning a page.

“So…see to it!” and he went to the back.

He didn't move.

Loki returned with two cups. “How does one see about moldy wooden floors?”

“One replaces them.”  

“Replace, my eye. What’s wrong with the old ones? People don't value things anymore, Fandral. They take everything for granted, never appreciate what they have, and then proceed to replace them.”

“Are we still talking about floors?” he looked up at Loki.

He glared at him, then his face fell. “Jane dismissed me for some cockney young chap with bad hygiene.”

“What?”

“Some Freddy fellow came in and she dropped everything to speak with him about his ailing mother or some such nonsense,” he gesticulated then went to the door and propped it open.

“So…a customer?”

“Who knows what goes on in that head of hers?”

“Loki. I know that you aren’t quite familiar with the term ‘customer’, but if Jane wishes to maintain a business, she really must tend to them. Even over you, occasionally.”

  “Humph,” and he went over and downed his tea.

“She’s been closed all week, man! She’s likely starving, and she has her father to think of! She doesn’t have the benefit of a wealthy family to pick up the pieces when she’s indisposed.”

Loki considered this. He nodded, closed his eyes. “You are a good sort, Fandral,” and he went to the back.

Fandral got up and fetching the mop, began to wash the floors. “Poor Jane Foster.”

.....

It was late in the day Saturday, and Jane’s ankle ached. Though she was fully healed, it was still a touch tender. 

She set about cleaning up…it was much later than she would keep open on a Saturday, but with her being at home all week, people were getting desperate. Though there were other apothecaries within about ten or fifteen minutes of Spitalfields, it seemed evident that most of her clientele wished to stick with her. 

There was a knock at the door…

Loki, thought she.

Jane opened the door. It was the post. “Hello, Mr. Richards. I thought we had the post already?” she smiled.

He handed her an envelope. “Dis was at da office…saw it an’ t’ought I’d bring it to ye.”

Jane smiled and nodded, taking the brown envelope.

She closed the door behind her and went inside, opening it. 

Inside was a fifty pound note…nothing else. 

She looked again and again for any indication who it might be from, but it was otherwise empty. Perhaps a client had forgotten to pay her…?

But she almost never had an outstanding bill of fifty pounds! A few crowns, mayhap…

“Good evening, Jane Foster,” came Loki’s voice.

She turned and saw him entering. 

 And then it dawned on her…”Did you send me a fifty pound note in the post?

“Excuse me?” his countenance bore a look of shock.

“You heard me, Loki. What’s going on.”

He sighed heavily. “Well, I thought that you wouldn't accept it if I gave it to you directly.”

“You are quite right,” and she handed him the note.

“Come, Jane. You were home all week. You made no money…”

“I’d sooner walk the streets,” and she continued to hold the note for him to take.

“I’ll not be taking that back, and you should be more considerate of those who care for you. It’s not amusing to joke about you walking the streets.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean,” she paused. “Look…I thank ye kindly, that’s very sweet of you. But I have a stash of funds for emergencies such as these, and father and I are fine. Now take back your money.”

He snapped it from her. “Shall we tomorrow night, then?” steadying himself and his temper. She really was so ungrateful.

“Mm…yes,” and she swept the floor. “We can try your idea out. I think it’ll work nicely.”

“Did you enjoy the book?”

“Oh Loki,” she stopped. “Yes. I’ve gone through all of the charts, and I even went outside to see if I could spot what the authors and artists drew…it’s so incredible.”

“Were you successful?” he sat and crossed his legs.

“No…the air is as thick and as rotten as it smells.”

“Smells?”

  She sighed, putting the broom away, smoothing herself out, fiddling with her hair, and finishing up pitting things away. “Yes. For some reason, I smell the stench of London and no one else seems to…or else they don't mind. I think that I am ill suited for this place, and the country is a much better atmosphere for me…clean air, clear skies…perhaps once father is gone I can settle out there and become a small town apothecary,” she smiled at him and stood there, waiting for his response.

Loki cleared his throat and stood. “You know, I had often thought that myself…”

…and he had.

“Well, Jane. Since you are ill bred and refused my monetary aid, what say you to some dinner at Martha’s Tavern? You never did honor your promise to allow me to escort you for dinner…”

Jane nodded. “You’re right. Let’s do that.”

And they set off for Martha’s, both a bit light despite the dark. Both smiling despite the dread…

…and September faded to its last breath without blood.  
Almost.


	15. A Double Event

A Double Event

The week went by fairly quickly, Jane and Loki settling into a nice routine…they went out every other night, walking the streets of Whitechapel until about two or three, then heading back to Algate. Loki didn't bother to go out afterwards…he felt that their eavesdropping on useless conversations that were mostly better unheard was sufficient. 

Saturday the twenty-ninth was a warmer day than the East End had experienced in at least a few weeks. 

Fandral came into Asgard a bit later than usual…this didn't go unnoticed by Loki.

“It’s after nine, Fandral. What do you mean by it?” he was behind the counter, doing some paper work.

“Loki…” he began. He took his hat off, and began to play with it, approaching the counter reluctantly. 

“What is it?” he was concerned. He was unaccustomed to Fandral behaving this way.

“I’m…very concerned about Mary. I saw her last evening, and she said that she had heard about a…person…claiming to be working for an American. This person was, she had heard, a Pole.”

  “Yes?” he raised his eyebrows. 

“Do you think, this Pole, could he be the foreign man you heard asking for Mary?” he swallowed.

“I…” Loki thought about the accent he had heard, but it seemed so long ago now…”I cannot say for certain.”

Fandral nodded. “I have a bad feeling about this weekend, Loki. If you think on it a moment, the previous three have all taken place on weekends.”  

“Mary Ann Nichols…” he protested.

“All right. Friday. Close enough,” he sighed. “At any rate, I feel as though something will happen tonight.”

Loki sighed a touch. “We cannot act on ‘feelings,’ man. We need to be able to think clearly and rationally.”

Fandral looked at him desperately. “I’m worried about Mary.”  

“Then make certain the she doesn’t go out this evening,” he replied, and began to put his things in the back. “Does she know?”

Fandral swallowed and sat at his stool behind the counter. “Know?”

Loki entered once more. “Does she know that you love her?”

“Does Jane know?” he said accusingly.

“What makes you think that I care for Jane Foster beyond friendship?”

“The same something that makes you think that I love Mary,” and Fandral opened his book, turning his page.

Loki said nothing, but nodded. 

He hadn’t said any word resembling those terms Fandral employed describing his feelings for Jane. Not to himself, not to anyone. 

The fact was, was that he was afraid. Afraid, because of what had happened with Sif. It was such a convoluted time. He never fully understood his feelings for Sif….he still didn’t. He probably didn't fully understand his feelings for Jane, either. 

Loki cleared his throat and went to the back…staying there for the remainder of the work day. 

At around two in the afternoon, Fandral knocked on Loki’s door. “I’m going to leave, Loki. I want to get to Mary.”

  Loki looked up from his desk, nodded.

“Don’t go out tonight, Loki.”

“Everything will be all right, Fandral.”

The clerk fussed with his coat and cap…”I wish you wouldn’t…you and Jane…I’m…”

“Wary. I know.”

“Fine. Suit yourself.”

Fandral left the back…Loki got up. “Fandral!” he called out.

He turned as he opened the door. 

“I thank’ee…I will be certain to be very aware and careful.”

  He nodded, and left. 

Loki sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He looked around the shop. When was the last time he sold a book?

He laughed and began to close up. 

He obtained some things from the back and locked up the shop, heading for the apothecary.

.....

Jane could not boast much business for a Saturday. She was not upset about this. It was past five now, since she had been busy all week, she kept open much later than usual. The fact was that she had made a good bit of money… but in truth, she was looking forward to seeing Loki…

She thought about the dinner they had enjoyed at Martha’s Tavern…and though there was nothing of consequence that made her have such a good time, she did all the same…

He was attentive, more so than usual, and their playfulness did not ebb despite the atmosphere. 

Jane thought that, perhaps, he was more handsome than she gave him credit for. His surly and brusque nature often inhibited any impartial critique. But yes…in the dim of the tavern, she noticed the contours of his face, the steadiness of his eye, his soothing voice, and Jane was pleased.

He was an amicable companion. 

And she had fun with him.

His mind was equal to, if not superior to, her own; and though Jane was loathe to admit it, she was a bit snobbish when it came to intellectual pursuits. Loki humbled her a touch…

His own mind could be brought down a bit as well, she believed. That was no easy task, but one she felt she could accomplish if pressed.

She heard her door open just as she was putting the last of her things away, and quite unbidden, her heart jumped. 

She placed her hand to her chest. “Loki?” she called from the back.

“And if I wasn’t?” came Loki’s voice.

Jane swallowed and smiled. “Then I’d throw you out. Can’t be too careful these days,” she entered the center of the shop smiling. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” he sat, crossing his legs.

“Just fine?” she sat across from him and undid her hair, then began pulling it back up in a messier bun. 

“Fandral is in a state,” he undid his tie, unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt…tied the ragged scarf around his neck…

“What over?” she undid her buttons low, then took a tattered shawl she found in the bin out behind her shop in the alley that week. She had stopped putting the rouge on…

“He thinks that something will happen this evening based on a conversation he had with Mary,” he rolled his pant legs up as per the day laborers’ style and changed to work boots he kept at the apothecary. 

“What did Mary say?” Jane adjusted her hat so that it sat more steadily on her head. She would need to bathe the following day.

“That a foreigner was boasting that he worked for and American. Apparently, this person was Polish.”

“Oh?”

“Mm. Isn't much of anything, is it?”

“Well, no. But it isn't nothing, either. We need that name, Loki…I think that is our real problem. That, and potentially stopping another murder.”

“Is that what our purpose is?” he stood, pulling on his coat. 

“Of course! We are trying to make certain that no one else is murdered in a gruesome, horrific fashion!” she checked her layers. It would become quite chilly around eleven. 

The custom had become to buy some bread from McKay’s bake shop, then some provisions from the carts. They would be shutting down sometime in November or December, depending… so the customers would be certain to enjoy the fresh goods while still available. 

They set about doing just that, then Loki suggested they walk over to the garden, since it was a warm enough day. 

Jane agreed, and they went. “Father is becoming worried again,” she said as she bit into her bread. It was from the hearth, still warm.

“Your late hours?”

“Well, yes. He thinks that we are wasting our time.”

“Do you?” he took a bite of an apple.

“No, But it’s been some time…”

“Not really, Jane. It’s only been a few weeks.”

She nodded. “Well…maybe…for my father’s sake, we should limit our investigation to two nights a week, instead of four.”

Loki nodded. “I understand. Of course.”

She smiled, finished her bread. “Done, then?”

He nodded once more, then followed her out into Whitechapel Road.

.....

They had walked, hidden mostly in shadow, for about two hours. Jane complained that she wanted a place to sit and get a warm drink, for the chill had settled early.

Loki acquiesced, and at around nine at night, found themselves in a pub across from the International Working Men's Educational Club on Berner Street. He ordered her a hot toddy. 

“Why here, Loki?” she whispered. 

“I’ve been meaning to come to this location…there is a lot of unrest about the Jewish immigrants, and here is where they meet. They find friendship and community.”

“So?”

“So…if someone was wanting to frame a Jew, they’d come here to commit their crime,” he looked at her and smiled.

“You are amazing,” said she, with a wide smile…”I thought that you…” she lowered her eyes and played with her glass.

“You thought that I was about to spout anti-Semitic rhetoric?”

Jane blushed, then nodded. “I’m sorry…I hear it a lot in the shop.”

“I’m not one of those people, Jane.”

She looked at him now. “I know,” and she turned to the window, looking at the club.

He eyed her suspiciously, then looked out as well. 

“How long should we sit here?” Jane asked a few minutes later.

“Not sure…” he glanced at her drink, then raised his hand for the keep.

He was answered with a scoff.

“You’re a laborer, Loki…they don't like being treated that way by day laborers.”

“Humph,” he said, standing and going to obtain Jane’s drink. He paid for it, and gave the keep a pound for his trouble adding, “One should never assume, because one is dressed meagerly, that one is at all disadvantaged. Never judge a book by its cover,” he turned and sat down.

And the keep wrote down the phrase last uttered by Loki, with the intention of referring to it later. 

“Ridiculous prejudices,” he hissed, sitting next to Jane once more.

Jane smiled knowingly, but said not another word.

After a time, and round about eleven, they left the pub.

Jane pulled her wrap close, the temperature felt even colder than before…of course it’s colder…it’s later…thought she.

They went over to the International Working Men's Educational Club, and hung about there for a bit. Loki was next to Jane the entire time, Jane huddled to his side.

“Eh, Liz!” a man called out. “Long Liz, bless me soul! I been lookin’ fear ya last hour, I fink…”

“‘ello John,” replied Long Liz. “‘an whatcha got fer’ me tonight?”

“Nufin, Liz…ye be on yer own.”  

“Aw…give a girl a chance!”

“Sorry, love. Once de cold comes on…it be every man fer’ ‘imself.”

“I ain’t no man,” said Liz.

“Well…find ye a John…”  

“Ain’t ya John?” she laughed, and went over to him, trying to kiss him.

“‘have yerself, woman! I’ll see ye Monday,” and he left Liz there, moping and desolate.

“We should help her,” said Jane.

“Help her do what, exactly?” Loki stated.

“I don’t know…but it seems cruel to leave her to the streets…”

And then, a smallish man, dark, with a bowler cap went over to Liz..she struck up a conversation, then they left together. 

“Well, I imagine we both understand what that’s about,” Loki said. “Come on. Let’s walk to keep warm."

Jane couldn't even imagine what the streets would be like in a month…positively freezing, she surmised.

They walked down Berner Street, quite close to one another.

“I wonder what it’s like to be one of them.”

“One of whom?”

“Them. The women who walk.”

Loki looked at her. “I would think it’s very sad. Very stressful…frightening…” he slowed the pace a bit.

“Do you not think of this, Loki? Having spent so much of the past six weeks watching them? Is there not a feeling of divide? Of division? That there is an ‘us,’” she indicated her and Loki, “…and a ‘them’. The wretchedly poor. And there is a sense that though we live and work among them, there is not a common understanding…that there is a sense that we belong to one world, they to another.”

“I think I understand what you mean, Jane. I suppose, being born of a wealthy family, I feel it all the more…though I have suppressed that tendency and restricted my snobbiness to an intellectual nature.”

Jane sighed and rolled her eyes.

He laughed softly. “But those who honestly don't have anything, not even a reliable bed, no. I don't suppose I’ve given them much thought.”

“I have.”

“Evidently.”

“And I think it’s horrible.”

“That it is.”

“But we don't do anything about it. We go to work, we go home…we see them. But we don’t…we look away because they make us uncomfortable. We value our comfort over their lives. And that’s what this is, Loki. Life and death…for not only are we letting them starve to death, we are letting a murderer execute them,” she heaved, impassioned.

“I’ll just assume that you are referring generally, not specifically, to these people. That present company is excluded, for I, Jane, am risking my own life and limb…at your behest, mind…and I must say that I do care. Despite myself, I do.”

“You are a good sort, Loki Odinson…and yes. You are exempted,” she smiled at him as they turned a corner.

There was a disturbance up ahead…it looked as though the police were bringing someone in. 

“Do you reckon…?” Jane whispered.

“Let’s see…” Loki took her hand and went up to, unsurprisingly, Erik Selvig. “Inspector…” he began.

“Just an intoxicated woman, Loki,” he shook his head. 

“What’s her name?” he looked at her.

“I’m nuffin’…” she responded.

He stepped back, struck by what she said. Loki took Jane’s hand once more and led her away. He was silenced by her answer.

“Oh, Loki…what’s to become of us all?” she shook.

“I cannot say.”

.....

The pair spent the next hour close to the the Worker’s Club. It was creeping on midnight, and they were leaning against a brick building just across the way by the Pub they had sat at earlier. 

There was a man and a woman just outside the club, and it didn't take Jane long to realize it was the same woman…Liz…they had seen earlier. “She gets around,” she observed. “I hope she makes enough from this transaction to allow her her doss…”

Loki was standing, watching them talk, arms crossed in front of him. Jane was standing against him, in an effort to keep warm. 

But she imagined, as she stood there, that it wasn't unpleasant, and she actually felt quite safe. 

Loki, after about another twenty minutes, froze…

Two men had emerged from the club…they appeared to be speaking in secret…

And Liz came back out onto Berner Street…

One of the men went over to her. He appeared to be propositioning her…but Liz was disinterested. 

Loki took Jane’s arm…

The man pushed Liz into the alley she had just emerged from, and Loki heard him call a name out…the other man went running toward Liz and her “customer”…

Just then, another man, tallish, with a tall hat and a shiny black bag came, in a state, up the road…

It was unclear exactly where he emerged from…but he was heading in Loki and Jane’s direction.

Loki gasped, pushed Jane against the wall, covering her with his body, his head bent into her neck…

He was very close to them…and Loki then said to her in low tones, “Whisper something in my ear…”

His breath was warm against her neck, Jane felt a stir deep inside of her…her hands went up his arms and she turned her face against the side of his face just as the impressive gentleman passed them.

“He’s almost gone,” she whispered…

…and Loki could feel her pulse quicken…her breath coming fast…and though it could be on account of the goings on, he somehow doubted it, for she was leaning quite close to him…

He pulled away slowly, his cheek brushing hers…his nose grazed her own…his black locks brushing her face softly…and he looked in her eyes…

They were heavy with want, and her sepia eyes sought his mouth…

…he claimed her lips delicately, but then it was too much, and he quickly deepened it, his hands framing her face, then to her neck…he moaned a touch as his mouth played with hers…

…and Jane pulled him even closer…and there was hunger in her kiss, she grabbed his shoulders for purchase…”Loki…” she said between kisses…

There was no scream…but a commotion…

He pulled away from her at the sound, his eyes not leaving hers…he registered shock in her expression. She regretted it already…

…but Jane was all raw nerve and want. It took her by surprise, yes…but…

Another call…

“Murder!”

“No!” Jane exclaimed, pushing Loki aside and running in the direction of the club. 

Loki snapped himself from his haze, and ran after her…

…and they saw Louis Diemschutz, in a state, running from the alley. 

Jane went over, and asked him what has happened, while Loki went further into the alley…Long Liz was lying prone to the back wall, blood still oozing from her neck.

They spent the next half an hour answering questions for Selvig and Abberline. Loki detailed everything but the kiss he and Jane shared, while Jane stood next to him, in a haze, nodding. 

“Shall we go then, Jane. The detectives have all they require.”

She swallowed…”Yes.”

.....

PC Watkins had just made another round in his area, not ten minutes from Berner Street. He had seen nothing, heard nothing, assumed all was well.

At one forty-five, he checked his watch, looked up, and saw a heap on a corner in Mitre Square…Watkins walked closer, then reeled back in horror.

He sprinted for Berner Street, knowing that Abberline was likely still there. 

And there was the group, talking about poor Long Liz…

“For God’s sake, come to my assistance, there’s been another!” Watkins shrieked.

Jane felt faint. She swayed, Loki took her hand. “Are you all right?” he whispered.

“Did he say there was another?”

“Jane…we can leave…we don't need to…”

“No,” she croaked. “Let’s go…”

They followed the police to Mitre Square, where another woman lay, half naked, vivisected, mutilated…

Jane stayed behind, she couldn't go closer.

But Loki did, and as he approached her, he recognized her.

She was the woman from earlier that night…the one who had given her name as “Nothing.”


	16. Aftermath

Aftermath

The post was always intermittent in Philadelphia. Some days the letters would arrive well before noon, sometimes not until after supper.

Today was no different.  The estate was a large one, but other than that, it had little to recommend. The situation of the house was such that no pleasant view was to be seen. The decor was drab.

Such was the life of a scientist trying to make his way in the world. 

At around three pm, the maid indicated that the post was finally come, and handed him the three letters.

One was from the university. He tossed it aside, knowing full well that he was on probation.

One was from his father. He hesitated with that one, thinking that perhaps he should open that as soon as he saw the next…

…London. 

He tore it open. Inside, in rather crude lettering, was the following:

'Be there by the end of the first week of November.'

He rubbed his face. Surely not…

“Oh, M’lord…have you stomach for dinner?”

He nodded. “I’ll be right there.”

He looked at the letter from him father.

Howard Stark would have to wait.

.....

There simply are not ample adjectives to describe the terror the residents of Whitechapel felt the morning of September thirtieth. People were fascinated, to be sure…but the fear was much more potent than any morbid curiosity.

 To add to the mystery, the police found, then rubbed away, a message found on Goulston Street. It said, rather crudely:  
“The Juwes are the men that will not be blamed for nothing”  
No one knew exactly what it meant, and the only reason it was associated at all with the killer was because the message was above a dirty, bloodstained piece of an apron worn by the second victim. It could have been pure happenstance that the cloth fell there.

Or the message could have been put there by design, the cloth strategically placed. 

Either way, it was rubbed out by an officer; and though treated as a possible clue, could never be fully investigated. 

The first victim, Elizabeth Stride, had only her throat slashed, and it was hypothesized that the killer had been interrupted.

The second victim, discovered as Catherine Eddowes, had been thoroughly cut open and mutilated. 

.....

Jane hadn’t slept at all that night, and it was a good thing that she didn't need to open on Sunday if she didn't have the mind to.

She didn’t.

She was positively beside herself…

After Loki walked her home in almost compete silence, she turned to him in the doorway. She finally looked at him. 

“I need to take tomorrow, Loki. We can speak on Monday.”

He nodded. He rather thought the same thing.

Jane went inside slowly, and once he determined that she was fine, left himself…shaking a bit from the stress of it all.

Jane cried a good deal. She played the night over and over in her head.

It was her fault. All of it. She had allowed her passion get the better of her and caused two women to die.

Had she only pulled away…they might have discovered who was in the alley with Long Liz.

She sobbed. She hadn’t wanted to pull away…it felt wonderful to be wanted, to be kissed.

To be kissed by Loki.

She buried her face in her hands. 

She hadn’t the faintest idea that she fancied him! 

…well, that may be overstating. She had felt warmly toward him since this business began.

But to fancy him, to kiss him in a dark alley…she was dumbfounded. And to have two women die! 

She would never forget the sight of the second victim’s insides on the street…her intestines on her shoulder, placed delicately there. It was as though she were nothing but a piece of meat.

Jane laid in bed all day, calling to her father that she was merely tired when he knocked. Until finally, at supper time, he entered.

“Jane…I’m worried about you. I’ve heard all about the murders…”

She turned and looked at him. “Oh father! It’s awful. I saw them both last evening when they were still alive, saw them both after they were murdered! And I…I…” she sat up and cried into his shoulder. 

“What is it, child?”

“I…” she pulled away and wiped her face with Dr. Foster’s handkerchief. “I kissed Loki.”

“Ah…”

“No! It’s terrible…we were kissing when the first…when Liz was murdered…right across the street from us!”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. And then…there was another one! And I saw her insides…and it was the most horrific thing I’ve ever seen,” she paused. “I think that, in my attempts to stop these crimes, I may have caused two more.”

“You think that your snooping around caused poor Liz and Catherine Eddowes’s death?”

Jane looked at him through her tears. “Was that her name?”

“That’s what the Times says.”

Jane looked forlornly out the window by her bed. “She called herself nothing…but she had a beautiful name…”

“Jane, look…I want you tote a break from this mess. Perhaps see to your work. Maybe even examine your relationship with Loki…”

“Pardon? My relationship with Loki?”

“You cannot deny that there is something between the two of you.”

“I can. I have no idea…”

He stopped her. “And that is what I propose. To obtain an idea.”

She sighed, nodded, gave her dad a hug. 

“Get some rest, Jane,” he got up and left her.

She was very lucky…

…Jane spent that night sleeping some, reading her astronomy book some, and attempting to see the sky out of her bedroom window. 

......

Fandral was waiting for Loki Monday morning. 

“Are you and Jane all right?”

“Fine,” he opened the door “You’re here early.”

“Yes, well…I was concerned. Were you out Saturday night?”

“We were,” he opened the windows, went to the back and started the brew.

“And did you see….?” he followed him back.

“We actually saw both women before they were murdered, and then their corpses,” he said without looking at Fandral.

“Good god man.”

Loki went back into the shop, propped open the door, peered down the road toward the apothecary. She wasn't there yet.

“What?” now he looked at him, re-entering and heading for the back once more. He appeared to be moving more quickly than usual, and was more abrupt.

“You saw them?”

“Yeeesss…” and he retrieved his ledgers and put them on the counter, then went back and poured out two mugs, bringing one for Fandral. “Fandral…I have a question.”

“I have about a thousand…” he sipped, still staring a bit awe-struck at Loki.

And Loki peered at him with obvious annoyance.

“You have a question?”

“Yes,” and now he considered how to ask it…”If you…” he cleared his throat. “Say that you…” he took another sip. “Was there ever…”

“Out with it man! Unless you’re the murderer, nothing should take this long to relate!”

Loki squinted at him in annoyance. “I kissed Jane.”

Fandral’s mouth hung open. “You…?”

“Yes. You see now why I was hesitant to say anything.”

Fandral stared at him. “You…”

Loki raised his eyebrows. 

“No,” he laughed.

“You know Fandral, I really ought to seek a different employee. One with some brains,” and he went to the door again, and peered down the road once more. 

Still not there.

“What did she do?” he asked as Loki re-entered the shop.

“Excuse me?”

“What. Did. Jane. Do?”

“Well, she knitted a fine muffler and baked a pie while I forced myself on her.”

“Come, Loki…”

“What do you think she did?!”

  And Fandral laughed. “Well, any number of things are possible…she could have slapped you, laughed at you, yelled at you…you see my point?”  

“She returned my kiss.”

“Ah,” and he sat back on his stool.

“What does that mean?”

“Well…it doesn’t take a genius, Loki. Even i could figure it out.”

“Fandral, are you being deliberately obtuse…?”

“Well, she wanted to, didn't she? She must fancy you….”

And suddenly everything was slightly better. He had ruminated on this possibility all day yesterday, dismissed it, revisited it, dismissed it again…”Is it possible?”

“I’d say it’s likely…”

Loki swallowed, stood erect…

“What happened, exactly…?” asked Fandral.

“Well, we were on Berner Street, by the Worker’s Club, and we saw Liz…”  

“Liz?”  

“The first victim.”

Fandral nodded.

“She spoke with quite a few men…Jane and I walked, saw Cate being arrested…and we went back to Berner,” he cleared his throat and sat down. “We were standing for some time in the space between a pub and a house…I heard a disturbance, and then saw two men arguing. The next thing I knew, a tall man carrying a black bag was heading right for us…I pulled Jane close, and held her against the wall, to make it seem like…” he paused. “As though I was making good on a transaction…when I pulled away from her, she was…” he looked at Fandral. “She was watching me intently, holding my gaze…I had felt her next to me, she seemed…”

“Aroused?” Fandral supplied.

“Well, that might be taking it a bit far. But for want of a better word, yes. So I took a chance, and I kissed her.”

“And Jane returned it?”

“She did. Rather enthusiastically, I might add.”

“Of course.”

Loki glared at him. “But then…I heard some noise, and I pulled away, never leaving her face…but we heard someone shout ‘murder’, and that…rather spoiled the mood.”

“You are insensitive, Loki,” he laughed. “Though I must hand it to you, this is a more complicated situation than I’m accustomed to handling. I’d say that she definitely wanted to kiss you…that she likes you, but now her feelings might be marred by the untimely murder of two prostitutes.”

“And people say that I am indelicate.”

“Well, what’s done is done. It is all very sad, yes. But you and Jane are alive. Let us not forget that…”  

“You weren't so flippant Saturday when you thought that Mary might be in some danger.”

Fandral looked down and swallowed. “No…no I wasn’t.”

“Apologies, my man,” he looked at him with a concerned eye. “What are your thoughts?”

“I’m not sure. I think that you need to talk with Jane, but I also think that you need to figure out what your feelings are, precisely.”

At that, Selvig entered. “Mornin’,” he announced glumly. 

“Ah Selvig. What news?” Loki went to the back and returned with a mug for Erik.

“Nothing good, I can tell ye.”

The two men leaned against the counter as Selvig sat in a chair. “What happened to your settee?”

“His what?” breathed Fandral.

“The fainting couch,” Loki supplied. “It went back to the apothecary, where it belongs.”

“Ah, well. I was getting used to it here.”

“Never become too attached to things, Selvig. Life is fleeting. You may think that that couch isn’t disposable, but one misstep, and gone. And no one thinks a thing of it.”  Erik looked at him crookedly.

“Evidently, Loki here enjoys employing fainting couches in analogies about life. I know my life is much like a fainting couch…”

“Oh, do shut up Fandral. What news, Detective. I await your answer eagerly.”

“Well…Catherine Eddowes, she was missing a kidney. And her uterus.”

“My god,” said Fandral, sitting down.

“She was missing organs,” stated Loki. “Selvig, we need the name of that scientist. Even if it comes to nothing…”

“I agree,” replied the detective. I’ll do some asking at the local colleges…we really have no clue where he might have visited.”

Loki nodded. “I think, also, that we won’t be going out for a bit…that Jane might be wary now.”

“That’s wise,” said Selvig. “I don't fancy being out myself,” he stood. “But I’m off duty now…be heading home.”

“Very good,” Loki shook his hand. “Thank’ee, Inspector.”

Selvig left them there.

“I suppose the inquest will be this week,” Loki sat across from Fandral…Fandral, who was motionless and horrified. “Are you all right?”

He nodded. “No.”

Loki laughed. “You’ll need to divorce yourself from your fears as best you can, Fandral. No use in getting yourself worked up.”

“And how would you feel if Jane was on the streets at night?” he spat.

“I see your point, but if it is that important, then you need to keep her.”

“What?”

Loki shrugged. “If her safety means that much to you, then you should have her move in with you and pay for her.”

“I’ve asked her. She refused.”

“Well,” Loki replied, a bit dumbfounded. “I suppose…”

Fandral sighed and stood. “There’s nothing to be done, Loki. This isn't fixable. Mary is a stubborn woman,” he paused, looking down the road toward the apothecary. “Go and see your own stubborn woman.”

He sat up, and peered out the same door. Yes…it appeared that the door was indeed open. “She isn't my woman, Fandral,” he replied, standing himself. “I’ll call later. Give her some time to settle in,” and he went to the back.

“Nerves,” Fandral laughed. “Poor Jane Foster.”

.....

Jane fiddled with some things in the shop she had been meaning to see to. Her ledgers were dreadfully abandoned since she returned from her injury, so she updated them for a while. She cleaned the back room. She organized her herbs; cleaned out the water barrel, refilled it. She arranged for some laundry to be taken home…when was the last time she did that? She scrunched her nose in disgust.

She had a few customers that day, but Spitalfields Market was pretty sparse for a Monday. Most were probably not opening that day, terrified to leave home. 

She had heard that only the butcher and some of the produce carts opened the day previous. 

All the long while, Jane wrestled with very conflicting emotions…

She did, in fact, feel fairly responsible for having been swept away in a moment’s passion. She felt utter guilt and was prone to bouts of nausea when she thought on it. 

But the guilt, she soon realized, was do mainly to the fact that she enjoyed it…that she had wanted to kiss him. 

She couldn't decide if she wanted more…and rather came to the conclusion that she would need to talk to Loki, to assuage her guilt, and perhaps suggest that they both stop going out for a while, and perhaps hold off on any…romance?

She sighed at the word. Jane had resigned herself, not unwillingly, to a single life. 

But that didn't mean that she could never, ever, enjoy the company of a man.

Nor did it mean that she couldn't ever fancy one.

She also wasn't certain of his own regard. He might have been swept up in the moment, like she was, but regretted it more fiercely and for different reasons. That is, maybe he found the idea abhorrent. She wouldn't be sorry to that admission. Disappointed? Maybe. But she would get over that quickly enough. 

Men were, as she had observed, more strongly moved sexually. Generally speaking. Perhaps that was all it was, a need for release he wasn't granted because they were interrupted. 

Interrupted by a murder, she reminded herself, and she was momentarily angry and disgusted by Loki.

“Afternoon, Jane.”

She jumped…she was still thinking about how disgusting men were, and there was the man in question, standing in her shop, looking at her uncertainly.

She swallowed to steady herself. “Loki,” she smiled, and nodded.

“Erm…” he went in tentatively. “Ah…so. How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” stop being so silly, Jane Foster. You have no cause to be curt with him. She snapped herself out of it and offered the warmest smile she could muster. “How are you?” and she went to brew tea in the back.

Loki rubbed his palms on his pant legs. He loathed his reacting thus to her, but he was nervous…he had put off visiting for as long as he could without seeming heartless. It was nearly two in the afternoon now.

Jane returned with a mug for them both. “Sit, if you like,” and she sat herself. 

She was being dreadfully polite. This was likely very not good. “So, Jane…Selvig visited me this morning.”

“Yes?”

“Yes…” he sat down opposite her. “…and he informed me that poor Miss Eddowes,” he paused. “The second victim…"

  Jane nodded.

“…had one of her kidneys and her uterus removed.”

“My god,” she replied.

“Quite. So…this adds merit, I think, to the ongoing theory we have devised.”

Jane swallowed, deep in thought.

Careful, Loki…you have had all day to process this. “I think…perhaps we should hold off before going out again. I daresay that few women, if they can help it, will be going out at night, anyway.”

She looked at him and nodded. “Yes. You’re probably right.”

“We can work with Selvig during the day, and you can be home with your father by six,” he added with a smile.

No response.

“Do you…” he cleared his throat. “Is it…not something that you wish to continue with? I quite understand if…”

“No,” she choked. And she, then, cleared her throat. “No. I want to,” there were tears in her eyes.

He sat upright, his first inclination was to go to her, but he steadied himself…”Jane! What is it?”

“I’m sorry…” she stood and got a handkerchief…”I’m sorry…”

He was beside himself. He had no idea how to act. He desperately wanted to fix whatever was bothering her…she wasn't one for tears.

Jane returned and pulled her chair next to him, and took his hand in hers. 

Loki swallowed. “Jane?”

She smiled at him through her tears. “I’m a right mess, Loki.”

“Why? What can I…”

“We need to talk about what happened.”

“You mean…?” he dropped his gaze, took his hand away.

“Yes.”

He nodded. 

“You regret it,” she said plainly.

He snapped his eyes to hers. “No!”

She nodded. “Neither do I…”

His heart sped up.

“…exactly.”

“Exactly?” his heart fell.

“Well, I cannot abandon the notion that because we were…ah…” she looked away.

“Yes.”

“That had we not, that poor Liz might have been spared…or Catherine…perhaps…I don't know…” she paused, then looked at Loki. “We could have caught him, Loki. If we hadn’t been…”

“Well, that’s a lot of conjecture, Jane. We can never know if we might have caught the culprit had we not…”

“Kissed,” she supplied with a gulp.

“Just so. And to perseverate on ‘what might have been’s’ won’t do anything but drive you mad.”

Jane smiled and nodded, turned away from him slightly, slumping in her chair. “You always make sense, Loki.”

“I try,” he smiled without her seeing, looking at her fondly.

“Was it just the moment, though? Were you caught up in what we were doing, in close proximity…”

“Pardon?”

She looked at him. “Do I need to spell it out for you?”

“Please do,” he was a bit confused. He thought that they were on the same page, as it were.

“I mean,” she stood and leaned against the counter, looking at him. “Were you merely caught up in passion, or was there more to it?”

“Caught up in passion?” he stood now. 

She raised her eyebrows. 

“You mean that you…you think that I was taking advantage of you, and the situation we were in? That you think that all I was seeking…was sexual release?” his voice was rising.

“It isn't as absurd as you make it sound.”

“No, except that you know me, Jane.”

“I know you, yes, but that doesn’t mean that you’re not a man, with manly…urges…”

“I see,” he was loud now. “I see very clearly now. Oh yes. I went through the whole of this charade in an elaborate scheme to set up a seduction of our apothecary. I couldn’t…I don’t know…pay for it like all the other blokes do when they have the inclination.”

“Now you’re being unfair,” she crossed her arms in front of her.

“Fair?! What do you take me for? Jane, if I had honestly been trying to seduce you, you would have known.”

  “Would I have?”

“Oh yes. Count on it,” he spat.

“You know, all I was suggesting was that there were no feelings of a genuine nature behind our kiss. That isn't so ludicrous an idea, it happens all the time. You could have either confirmed it or dismissed it without this display.”

“You are right. I either want to fuck you or I’m in love with you.”

Jane went over to him and slapped him hard on the cheek. “I’ll thank’ee for not using such language in my shop.”

He rubbed his cheek. They were both heaving with emotion and rage…

…and he was indubitably aroused. 

“Perhaps…” he began. 

...And he grabbed her, kissing her madly, passionately, pushing her to the counter, hiking her skirts up, Jane moaning, responding in kind…

He snapped out of it...He cleared his throat. 

Jane felt her heart beating rapidly with both emotion and want.

She swallowed, collecting herself…

...He wrapped his hand around her waist, pulling her close, his mouth inches from hers, his other hand caressed her cheek, he kissed her soundly…

Jane blinked, lost in her vision.

“Apologies, Jane. I hadn’t meant to be crude or offensive.”

She nodded. “We should perhaps shelve this discussion for another time.”

He nodded. “We can discuss things tomorrow, yes?”

“Very well.”

“I’ll just…”

“See you tomorrow, Loki,” and she wasn't unkind. 

He smiled, and left the shop.

He really needed to watch himself…

And he had no idea where that display left the two of them. He would need to think on it further. 

.....

Retreat back to September 20th…

In an old room in an old house only fifteen minutes north of Whitechapel, a reporter was penning a note. 

This letter would be received by the Central News Agency on the 27th, disregarded, almost disposed of.

Dear Boss,  
I keep on hearing the police have caught me but they wont fix me just yet. I have laughed when they look so clever and talk about being on the right track. That joke about Leather Apron gave me real fits. I am down on whores and I shan’t quit ripping them till I do get buckled. Grand work the last job was. I gave the lady no time to squeal. How can they catch me now. I love my work and want to start again. You will soon hear of me with my funny little games. I saved some of the proper red stuff in a ginger beer bottle over the last job to write with but it went thick like glue and I cant use it. Red ink is fit enough I hope ha. ha. The next job I do I shall clip the ladys ears off and send to the police officers just for jolly wouldn't you. Keep this letter back till I do a bit more work, then give it out straight. My knife's so nice and sharp I want to get to work right away if I get a chance. Good Luck.

Yours truly  
Jack the Ripper

Don’t mind me giving the trade name

PS Wasn’t good enough to post this before I got all the red ink off my hands curse it No luck yet. They say I'm a doctor now. ha ha

No one had thought a thing of it. But then, that morning of the first, it was retrieved from the desk it was shoved into…for another had come…

I was not codding dear old Boss when I gave you the tip, you'll hear about Saucy Jacky's work tomorrow double event this time number one squealed a bit couldn't finish straight off. ha not the time to get ears for police. thanks for keeping last letter back till I got to work again.

Jack the Ripper

The Agency then thought that the Yard should be alerted. It was too much of a coincidence to be dismissed.

But what was notable, what everyone was hanging on, was that the killer, if these were genuine, gave himself a name.

Jack the Ripper.


	17. A Candle in the Dark

A Candle in the Dark

“They’re a fake,” said Mr Reed, of the Times. He was a respected editor, and didn't wish to inflate the importance of any hackneyed psycho whose legitimacy was questionable at best.

“How do you know they’re fake?”

“It’s the tone,” replied Reed, snatching the letters from William’s hand and walking back to his desk.

“Tone my arse. He knows things, man. Knows things about the killings.”  

“I don’t care. It’s fake.”

“I rather like the name,” Williams sat across from the editor, crossing his arms in front of him.

“Well, whoever wrote them I’m certain would be happy to know that you’re pleased,” he was scribbling a note for a reporter. “Jim! When is the inquest, again?” he called into the adjacent room.

“Thursday!” yelled in Jim.

“What’s today?” asked Reed to Williams.

He rolled his eyes. “Wednesday.”

“Blimey, we need you to cover that inquest,” he said to himself, jotting down some notes. “Here, take this to the inquest tomorrow,” and Mr Reed stood up. He was tall, a bit more refined than his counterparts at the Times, and a skeptic in all things.

He didn't buy that this “Jack the Ripper” was in fact the killer. 

But that didn't matter, because the Chief Editor had published the letters that very morning, despite Mr Reed’s assertion that they were a fraud.

The business, you see, was money. If there was money to be made, well, like anyone, he’d say that Her Majesty was the murderer (of course, he wasn't stupid; he’d lose his head, and then how could he enjoy his money?).

Mr Howard Reed sat down once more. “The killer isn't like this. He is a cunning one…mad, to be sure. But the chap who wrote those letters, he’s a show-off. The killer is not an exhibitionist…certainly, he murders in public without apparent cause…but he doesn’t want to be caught.”

“Tell me Reed, who wants to be caught?” Williams laughed.

“A madman. Someone who wants his work to be appreciated. This fellow, he doesn’t care.”

“Isn’t that worse?”

And Reed looked at him steadily. “Oh yes. Yes, it is.”

.....

 

She held the paper tight in her hand, crumpled it and rolled her eyes. She would need to bring this to Loki….

She was standing outside of the lone bookshop in Spitalfields Market, staring at the door. She hadn’t seen him yesterday, despite the assertion that they’d speak then. It was Wednesday, and Jane thought that she had better go and see Loki. Talk about their argument. Talk about the Times. 

…talk about how she had dreamed of him rather consistently since their spat and how she felt awful and how she much she desperately wanted to kiss him again…

No…she didn't want to get into all of that. 

She wanted things to return to normal.

But what was normal, anyway? She wasn't certain anymore.

Was normal she and Loki sleeping together on fainting couches?

…out at all hours, watching corpses being taken from the street?

Was normal the sidelong glances she’d give him?

…dressing like a prostitute, huddled in alleys, eavesdropping on whispered conversations?

Was normal working at the shop, having him visit her, trading jabs, laughing, having some tea, then kicking him out?

Or him leaving in a huff?

Or her following him up to the shop later, teasing him for his sarcasm, him sometimes walking her home?”

She couldn't say. She missed the old days, but she was happy with the way their relationship had progressed, too.

Sort of.

“Well, are you going to stand there gawking at my door, or do you plan on coming in?”

Jane snapped her eyes to his. “Oh. Afternoon, Loki.”

He smiled at her, and stepped aside to allow her passage. “How have things been, Jane?”

“Fine, I thank’ee,” she turned toward him. “I think that…we should perhaps…”

“Do you wish to speak of our spat?” he went to obtain something to drink for them both, his hands shaking a touch. He had gone over what he would say to her many times over, but it is always much easier to talk to a person about something uncomfortable when they aren’t standing right in front of you. 

Jane twisted her apron in her hands. She thought that, yes. They should speak…but she wasn't certain what to say. “If you think it wise,” and he returned, handing her a cup.

“Well, I suppose that I said some things that were untoward, and I am sorry that I said them.”

  Jane nodded. “I grant you that I overreacted to your impropriety…I merely have seen your temper…”

He nodded as well, but interrupted. “Yes. I know that I have a bit of a temper,” and he began to close up the shop.

“Quite,” she smiled. “Are we friends, then?”

She didn't mention the kiss they shared, the real reason for the heat of their argument…”Of course,” he nodded, and then, “Did you see the Times?”

“I did.”

“And what are your thoughts?” he asked, sitting down.

“My thoughts?” she thought that this man had a lot of nerve sending letters into the Central News Agency. She thought that he was, whoever he was, positively galling. “I think that this Jack fellow is absurd.”

“You mean, you think it a fake?” he sipped.

“Well, I don’t know if I mean that, exactly…but if he is the killer, then he isn't very bright.”

Loki sat back. He had considered this as a possibility, and was pleased that Jane was thinking along the same lines. “I’m not certain that they are fake, necessarily, but they seem rather forced, do they not? And not at all in line with what we have discovered thus far.”

“What do you mean?”

  “I mean, apart from Jack referring to the killings as his ‘work’, they do not seem to coalesce with who you and I believe could be the culprit, or at least, his motivation.”

“No. I suppose that’s right. We don’t paint the killer as someone killing for sport.”

“No…I have spoken with Selvig. He said that he would be looking into the local universities for information on visiting Americans in the past two years.”

“Oh…” Jane smiled. “That’s helpful.”…then she remembered. “Loki, I was left this this morning. It was shoved under my door…” and she handed him the crumpled piece of paper.

“What’s this?” he unfolded it. It read:

"Whitechapel Vigilance Committee  
Meeting this week to further discuss the plea to the Home Office to increase the reward amount for the capture of the killer now known as Jack the Ripper. Please come Friday, October the 5th, to talk about the things we are doing to ensure the terror ends."

“Whitechapel Vigilance Committee? Why is this the first I’ve heard of this? The bottom of the flier says the meetings date back three weeks.”

Jane sighed. “I think that since we were mentioned in the police reports, it is now known that we have been patrolling, and that’s what this group is doing, too. They are patrolling, along with the police, and they, I think, want us to join.”

“So…they’ve been doing all of this covertly?” Loki examined the paper once more.

“Not intentionally, no. I don’t think so. But they aren’t making a fuss, so there’s that,” she paused. “Also, George Lusk is the organizer.”

Loki groaned. “Good lord,” Lusk, while a good enough sort, was a bit too flamboyant for Loki’s taste. 

Jane laughed. “I knew you’d have an opinion on that.”

“Lusk is insufferable.”

“It’s incredible that he can maintain a low profile the way he carries on…”

“Perhaps he isn't among the patrollers. I am quite certain we would have seen…er…heard him,” he laughed.

Jane nodded and giggled. “And he always stares at me. It’s rather uncomfortable.”  

Loki squinted. “He stares at you?”

“Well…perhaps that’s a bit severe. Though he certainly looks at me a great deal.”

He crossed his arms. “We aren’t joining their little ‘club’, Jane. This is no game. Life and death,” he stood. “Let them play cards whilst women are slaughtered in the streets. What’s more, they have no connections to speak of. I have a wealthy father happy to contribute to the reward. Does Lusk honestly think that the Home Office will give any time at all to a lot of men who fancy themselves detectives?” and he stood up. 

Jane was smiling. “Isn’t that what we are?”

“Absolutely not! And Lusk and his ridiculous gang will muck up the whole thing. What is he playing at, anyway? He’s likely putting these poor women in more danger through his fliers and whatnot.”

“Loki…”

But his jealousy impassioned him, and he began to pace. “Does he even have a connection at the Yard? Is he respected enough to elicit change in the way things are handled?”

  “Are you?” she stood.

“I am. Yes. Selvig…”

“Erik Selvig was my doing, Loki. Look,” she sighed and went over to him. “We do not need to join their little club, but the let us not lose sight of the material point. We are all acting toward the same end. As long as the killer is caught, then what does it matter who meets and patrols and speaks to the police?”

He swallowed. He had overreacted to her saying that Lusk stared at her. “Quite right, Jane. So…shall we attend the inquest tomorrow?”

“We?”

“We are a team, a pair, are we not…?” he smirked, and took his cap and coat up from the rack.

“That we are,” she smiled and wrapped herself up a bit closer. “Will we be going out again, do you think?”

“Not sure,” he locked the door. “As of now, no. I rather think that we need to obtain the information from Selvig, and go from there.”

Jane nodded, falling into step next to Loki. She really ought to say something…”Loki?”

“Hm?” his hands were in his pockets, he was staring at the ground.

“Ah…I don’t regret it.”

He looked at her…his heart began to beat very fast. “Nor do I,” he smiled.

Jane returned his smile. “But…I don’t think that…that we should confuse things in the middle of this madness…and it will give us time to think,” she was staring ahead of her now.

Time to think. “As you like.”

“But do you like?” she asked, stealing a glance.

“I have no idea,” and that was the truth of it. He was terrified. Terrified of pursuing her, of not pursuing her. Of losing her. Of never having her or gaining her affection…of never, ever having a moment like they did in the bookshop again…or of him pressing against her in a dark alley, all passion and heat and want…

“Well, then. Time can perhaps give us an answer.”

Loki swallowed. “I am very fortunate to have your friendship, Jane. I value very much these past two months, for though I have always admired you and thought of you as a friend of sorts, it has given me immense pleasure to have grown close to you. You are as good a friend as I have ever had.”

She took his hand in hers. “I feel exactly the same way,” and she squeezed it, dropped it, and they continued on their way to Algate.

.....

Mr Langham was a stout man. Short, to be blunt. He had seen the crowds gathered outside, the throng in the courtroom. He hated speaking in front of people. 

He cleared his throat, standing at the high table. “Attention!” it was a feeble attempt. He took a deep breath. “Attention!” Nothing.

“Sir, hammer the gavel,” said the clerk next to him.

Langham took up the thing, banging it hard on the table. “Attention, attention! We are come to order!”

And the crowd silenced.

The clerk raised his eyebrows, a smirk on his face.

Langham rolled his eyes and sat, calling a Miss Eliza Gold to testify.

At the back, in a corner, pressed to one another, was Selvig, Loki, and Jane. “Do you suppose they’ll call us in? After our given testimony?” Loki asked Selvig quietly.

“Doubtful. The Yard doesn’t care to mention that civilians are taking things into their own hands. Bad press.”

He nodded, then looked at Jane. “Not to worry, Jane…Selvig here does not think that we will be called forward.”

She looked at him crookedly. “Oh, well. That’s a mercy,” and she shook her head. She didn't care if she was called, but Loki expressed some hesitation. He thought that they had gone relatively unnoticed, and to call attention to either of them would be bad, indeed. 

Dr Frederick Brown was then called, as he was the surgeon who performed the autopsy. 

“Can you tell us what was the cause of death?” asked Langham.

“The cause of death was hemorrhage from the throat. Death must have been immediate,” replied Brown. 

“There were other wounds on the lower part of the body?” 

“Yes; deep wounds, which were inflicted after death.”

There was then a graphic description of the mutilated body…

“I understand that you found certain portions of the body removed?” 

“Yes. The uterus was cut away with the exception of a small portion, and the left kidney was also cut out. Both these organs were absent, and have not been found.”

“Have you any opinion as to what position the woman was in when the wounds were inflicted?”

“In my opinion the woman must have been lying down. The way in which the kidney was cut out showed that it was done by somebody who knew what he was about.”

“Does the nature of the wounds lead you to any conclusion as to the instrument that was used?”

“It must have been a sharp-pointed knife, and I should say at least 6 in. long.”

“Would you consider that the person who inflicted the wounds possessed anatomical skill?”

“He must have had a good deal of knowledge as to the position of the abdominal organs, and the way to remove them.”

“Would the parts removed be of any use for professional purposes?”

“None whatever.”

“Would the removal of the kidney, for example, require special knowledge?”

“It would require a good deal of knowledge as to its position, because it is apt to be overlooked, being covered by a membrane.”

“Would such a knowledge be likely to be possessed by some one accustomed to cutting up animals?”

“Yes.”

“Have you been able to form any opinion as to whether the perpetrator of this act was disturbed?”

“I think he had sufficient time, but it was in all probability done in a hurry.”

“How long would it take to make the wounds?”

“It might be done in five minutes. It might take him longer; but that is the least time it could be done in.”

“Can you, as a professional man, ascribe any reason for the taking away of the parts you have mentioned?”

“I cannot give any reason whatever.”

“Have you any doubt in your own mind whether there was a struggle?”

“I feel sure there was no struggle. I see no reason to doubt that it was the work of one man.”

Jane had heard enough. “Can we leave now?” she asked Loki.

He nodded. “Selvig…we are heading out,” he took Jane’s hand and they wound their way through the mass of onlookers. 

It was dreadfully hot in the place, and with the descriptions offered, Jane felt heady…and all she could think about was poor Cate Eddowes…how she said that she was “nothing.”

And now, what was she? A missing kidney and uterus…

They fell out onto the road, fell being an apt term, as the crowd very nearly squeezed them out. 

“Gah, that was awful!” Jane exclaimed. 

“Loki Odinson!” came a booming voice.

Loki was smoothing out his suit, and rolled his eyes.

Lusk.

“G’day, Loki, Jane!” and the massively irritating man came over to the pair. “Listening to the proceedings, are we? Nasty business, this.”

“Hello, Lusk,” said Loki with a sneer. “And what brings you here?”

“Ah, surely you’ve heard about the Whitechapel Vigilance Committee?”

“Mm…you mean your card com whiskey club?”

“Now, Loki! What do you take me for? I am a concerned citizen, doing what I can in the face of such reprehensible crime.”

“Certainly. And the fact that you are bidding on several decorating commissions in the next few months doesn’t hurt, does it?”

Lusk was a restoration expert, housed along the periphery of Spitalfields. “My business has nothing to do with these crimes…”

“No indeed…but advertising and bossing people about can’t hurt your chances, can they?”

Jane cleared her throat. “Hello, George,” she smiled.

“Jane, looking as fine as ever,” he smiled, after offering Loki a particularly potent glare.

Loki then stepped closer. “Jane, we should be off, should we not?”

“Did you happen to receive my flier, Jane?” Lusk ignored Loki.

“I did, yes…”

“I understand that you have particular interest in these goings on.”

“Well, as a merchant and a woman….”

Loki was seething. “You needn’t answer him, Jane.”

Her first reaction was to thank him very much, but that she did not require his permission to speak. She stopped herself, knowing that he meant well. “Thank’ee, George, but I am very able to see to these atrocities without the aid of your committee. If, however, you would like to share any information, I’d be grateful, and Loki and I could certainly intimate to you what we have discovered.”

“Apologies, Jane. The invitation was kindly meant…” he nodded to them both, then turned and went into the courthouse.

“He is a cad,” spat Loki.

“He means well,” she replied, then turning, began walking toward Whitechapel and the East End. “However, I must be more careful in the future, Loki. You may need to accompany me everywhere, indicating when I should and should not speak,” she smiled.

He looked at her. “Now, Jane. You know that I only…

“I know. However, I also know when it is appropriate for me to speak, and it is usually when I am asked a question, or I have a question…or am being deliberately addressed.”

“Point taken,” he smiled. “Will we really be sharing information with that Lusk man, Jane?”  “Why not?”

“Oh, because he is a self serving, pompous brute of a man with a mustache I cannot abide.”

Jane laughed. “What if we add a caveat that we will only be sharing information if he cuts off his mustache?”

“I’ll take your suggestion under review.”

“Excellent. You are truly a reasonable man.”

.....

 

Erik Selvig was walking down Whitechapel Road that evening patrolling the neighborhood. He had been out and about for some time. 

The chill was deep, and not many souls had ventured out. He thought that was a good thing. 

The time he spent attempting to discover the American was fruitless. Either it was all a farce, or he just was that wily that the scientist had covered his tracks utterly. He kicked a stone on the road.

But he wouldn't abandon it completely. He thought that there was something to this, too. 

.....

Loki hadn’t admitted anything to himself concerning a certain apothecary. He wouldn’t, because he had been fearful of rejection and abandonment. Reasonable enough concerns, if one thinks on it.

But Jane had given him cause to hope, something he hadn’t done in quite some time. In relation to anything, really. 

Loki was in his flat, staring at the candlelight and the paper in front of him. What he was supposed to be writing, he couldn't say.

Oh yes…notes from the inquest. 

But Loki wasn't thinking about the inquest…not really. He was ruminating on just how odd it was that in the midst of all this pain, he had found some happiness. 

He had never enjoyed much happiness in his life. 

Some of it was his own doing.

Some wasn’t.

But he had vowed that he would ensure Jane’s safety throughout the whole of this affair, and now…now it was all the more important that she was safe. 

Because…

He downed his port.

He couldn't say it. He just couldn’t.

Loki rubbed his face and stood. 

And he went to bed after snuffing out the candle with his fingers.

.....

Somewhere…

He was sitting in a dark room with the candle lit. The glow flickered softly on the wall opposite. He had made his contact to the American in the States, and he was waiting for a reply. He knew that it wouldn't be long now…


	18. Man Made Infamy

Man Made Infamy

The Adamson family was neither well respected nor thought of poorly. They were neither here nor there…no one gave them much consideration at all in any matter.

Until they had a son.

Fandral was a handsome boy. Intelligent. Robust and confident. He would make a fine match, for though the family was not absurdly wealthy (like the Odinson’s), they were comfortable. And Fandral was an only child. 

So, the Adamson’s made certain that Fandral was at all of the social events. He was presented at all of the balls, local functions, assemblies…

But Fandral would have none of it. He was content with a book.

He was also content with paying for his pleasure when the need took him, he was not a proud man. 

This suited Lady Adamson ill, and she berated him for it. 

He did not care to listen to his mother, and spent his time at university wasting it on prostitutes and on books which weren't assigned. 

Lady Adamson could neither disown nor throw her beloved son out of the house. So she kept him, on the condition that he found work and did not bring his prostitutes home.

Fandral agreed, and it became increasingly easy to abide, for his father passed and his mother remarried.

He did not care for Lord Durlish…he would not forsake his father’s name.

Not that he was particularly attached to it, it was the principle. 

When he met Mary Jane Kelly, he was in a place in his life which spoke of lost time. He was a jaded man. A regretful man. 

And she made him laugh.

In the midst of his self pity, a Welsh prostitute made him forget himself, and laugh at his situation. That was not nothing. 

Not nothing…

But Mary was light. She flitted from person to person, never attaching never owning never wanting…

Fandral wanted her. He was attached. He fell in love with her, and he laughed at the entire thing. He was in love with a prostitute! How trite. How adorable. 

How pathetic.

He hated that he couldn't confess to her without her disdain and ridicule. She would never allow herself to be owned in such a way…to belong to someone was to be a prisoner. To love was to belong. Thus, love was a prison. A cage.

She never realized that she was in her own cage, built of her own doing and folly. Trapped, because she was poor.

Mary was blessed by virtue of her pretty face, but she never bothered to look beyond that. Never bothered to foster her other gifts because she couldn't sell them.

And so, Fandral loved her from afar…suffered her many lovers. Suffered some of said lovers taking advantage of her. Suffered, indeed, her contempt when he issued concern. 

And tended her wounds when she was beaten, or raped…

She loved him, he was certain. 

She just never said it.

.....

George Lusk heard heard the frantic knocking on the door to his office. He was exhausted by frantic anything, and this was no different. He stood reluctantly, and went to the door deliberately, a bit of a hunch to his stature. 

Admittedly, he was surprised to see Loki Odinson there, a scowl on his face. 

“Loki! This is…”  

“Stay away from me. Stay away from Jane. We are doing important work, and while I’m certain that your…heart…is in the right place, you’ll muck everything up with any interference.”

“Pardon?” Lusk wasn’t accustomed to be spoken to in such a manner, most respected him, at lest incidentally.

“I believe you heard me quite well. I know that Jane made mention of ‘sharing information.’ There will be no need to share anything. You have your club. Your patrol. Be satisfied with the knowledge that you are fulfilling the known names’ in the neighborhood desire to be of some use,” and Loki turned to leave.

“Now see here, Odinson,” Lusk began.

Loki turned and pushed him against his door…one hand on his shoulder, the other pinning his hand behind him. “Do not address me thus, you vacuous cur. I know what you are about, and I do not wish to be a party to it. What reason have you to be concerned about some miserable prostitutes’ death save your own pocket and the fact that you visit the brothels yourself? As I said, Jane is not your concern. And neither am I,” Loki dropped Lusk’s wrist and stepped away, holding his gaze. 

“Why are you concerned, Loki, hm? What is in it for you?” he glared at him.

Loki smirked at him slyly. “If you think I’ll indulge you with an answer, then you are more daft than I thought,” he turned away from an infuriated George Lusk and left the place. 

He heard him slam the door shut, and continued on his way, with a feeling of accomplishment. Loki didn’t hate Lusk as much as he was exhausted by him. He was much of what he avoided in people…every one of Thor’s failings wrapped in a loud, obnoxious package save the good looks and charm. 

…and when Jane said that he would stare at her…

Loki knew that Lusk paid for his sexual exploits. He had heard he was a bit…unorthodox in his kinks. He would not subject himself to thoughts of Jane being maltreated by a perverse sexual deviant. 

At least, not unless he was the perverse sexual deviant. But he wouldn't maltreat her. He would…

He smiled as he strode toward the Market.

He wasn't even certain if he had those tendencies. He rather suppressed that particular inclination. He had been honest with Jane when he said that he had paid for sex twice in his life.

But that didn’t mean that he had had sex two times. 

It did mean that he hadn’t had intercourse in a long, long while. 

He was nervous at the thought. He really didn’t fancy scouring Whitechapel Road in a few years looking for his release in the form of one of the prostitutes. 

He may not have a choice, though.

Loki went into Asgard and found Fandral at his station. “Afternoon, Fandral Lovely day,” and he went to the back.

“Mm,” replied the clerk, and he turned a page.

“Fandral,” said Loki, returning. “How often do you go…erm…out?”

“Out?” he turned another page.

“Yes. Out. For…ah…” he took a sip of tea. “For…”

Now Fandral looked at him. “Are you talking about sex?”

“How shocking you are, Fandral. It’s incredible anyone suffers your company,” he exclaimed. But then, “Yes. Sex.”

The clerk smiled at him. “It depends, Loki. Not as often as I used to, that’s for certain.”

“Right.”

“Are you thinking that you might need…?” 

“No,” he interrupted. “No…just thinking…”

“Planning?” he smirked.

“You know, Fandral, I can think of about a hundred things I’d rather be doing than have this particular conversation with you.’  

“You mentioned it,” he shrugged and went back to his book. “No luck with Jane, then?”

Loki cleared his throat. “No,” was his abbreviate reply. “But then…I haven’t really done all that much.”

“What have you done?”

“Ah…she said that she didn’t regret kissing me. I agreed. That was all, really.”

“Humph. You ought to have kissed her then and there.”

“According to you, Fandral, I ought to have proposed marriage to her by now,” Loki walked away and went to the back once more…

“Well, I don't know about all that, but you would have had at least a few kisses to speak of. Perhaps a bit more,” he muttered under his breath.

.....

“These are the names I’ve recovered from the local universities, Miss Foster,” Selvig handed her a list. “There are quite a few names. Not sure how we will be able to investigate all of these,” he looked around the apothecary. Jane was keeping it a bit darker…things seemed closed up and close…almost as if she was hiding…

Jane looked at the paper. There were over a dozen names. “Well, I suppose we can divide them into groups… you take a few, I take a few, Loki…” she smiled. 

“I s’pose,” he smiled. 

“Erik, what do you think of the Vigilance Committee?” she fished delicately.

“Hm. I think it’s a lot of people thinking that they are doing right by the neighborhood, but are really just interfering.”

“Isn’t that what Loki and I are doing?”

“Well, yes. But on a smaller scale. And you really only speak with me. That’s all right,” he smiled at her. 

“They all mean well, I think. It’s just that Lusk…”

“I know. You needn't explain further.”

Jane nodded, and dropped her eyes. 

Selvig looked at her with a ghost of a question upon his face. “Will…Loki be here? I rather thought that we’d be meeting together.”

“I think so. He had an errand to run…”

“He is a good sort, Miss Foster.”

Jane looked at him. “I know,” she smiled. “He is a very good friend.”

Erik stood, but stared at the floor. “That he is. And you. The two of you make a good team.”

She stood with him. “Are you leaving? What about the list?”

“You and Loki figure how to divide it up. Assign me what you like. I need to be gettin’ home, Miss Foster. The missus tires of the late hours,” and he left. 

Jane swallowed and looked around the shop. She had grown increasingly wary of coming to work, and had subconsciously made the place less welcoming. She was fearful, to be frank, and she thought that less people would come if it was darker…more closed…

She was sinking into a depression. She could feel it, though she couldn't name it, because Victorians in the East End couldn't afford to name their melancholy. They went on. And she was much more fortunate than most…she reminded herself of this regularly. 

But that didn’t mean that she wasn't wary of unfamiliar faces. Of coming to work at all. Of men. Of everything…She was falling into a despair, and she felt powerless.

Jane loathed feeling powerless. She was a strong woman, this was not how she behaved ordinarily. 

But neither was there ordinarily a killer on the loose, disemboweling his victims…

And they were no closer, she was sure of it! He lurked in the shadows, biding his time. And though she and Loki believed that they had discovered a possible motive, there was nothing, really, to suggest it was. So, they had nothing. Nothing, and women were dying.

Nothing, and Jane, herself, was in danger…

Nothing, and she might very well die, her killer nameless, save a ludicrous title he may or may or not have penned himself.

Jack the Ripper.

.....

Jane began to close up the shop, her head low, her stomach empty and churning with worry. 

“Jane?”

Her breath caught. “Loki?” she turned and saw him standing in the doorway, closing it behind him. 

“Did Selvig leave already?” he walked in and sat on the fainting couch, keenly aware of the significance he attached to it.

“A few minutes ago now,” she sat across from him. “He was wanting to get home to his wife.”

“Understandable.”

She smiled, then took out the paper from the leather pouch around her waist. “Here are the names he unearthed.”

Loki took it eagerly and examined it. “There are over a dozen names here.”

“I was expecting half as many.”

“Indeed,” he rubbed his chin, looking at it. Gardener Hubbard. Thomas Fiske. Charles Plumb. Anthony Stark. K Mather. Thomas Edison. “Thomas Edison?” he laughed. “That would be something, would it not?”

She offered him a weak smile. 

“What is it?” he put the paper down and looked at her. 

“Nothing,” she said. But then she paused. He was her friend, as she reminded herself daily. She had no one to confide in, save her father. “Actually, there are some things that are bothering me.”

“Such as?”

“Well, for starters,” Jane dropped her eyes and played with the hem of her apron. “…there is this odd problem of several women being brutally murdered the past six weeks. And then, I’m trying to help, but I’m not doing much good. And also, I am wholly responsible for my aged father. In addition to that, I’m putting my closest friend in danger…what’s more, I’m absolutely terrified that I’m going to end up with a cut throat…dead in an alley…” she stopped, and looked at him. “Loki?”

He was looking at her, and appeared to have tears welling in his eyes. “Jane,” he croaked. “I won’t let that…you must know,” he swallowed and looked down. “…I would protect you, Jane. If you like, I’ll meet you every morning, walk with you at all hours…”

She got up and went to him, took his hand. “Thank you. I’m just being silly. I’m just…succumbing to fear. I don’t usually do that.”

“No you don’t.”

She smiled, looked at his hand in hers, then let go, and folded her hands in her lap. “Well…that’s what is bothering me.”

“Yes,” his voice was deep.

She looked at him. “What?” she smiled.

He almost did it…he almost grabbed her, pulled her close…but he thought it might be misconstrued…that he was taking advantage of her present fragility. “Nothing,” he cleared his throat. “So…how should we deal with these names?” and he picked the paper up once more.

Jane cleared her throat as well. She leaned close to see the paper. 

…and her heat could be felt even despite the barrier of clothing…he closed his eyes, reveling in her closeness…

“Perhaps I should take the first…four? You the next…Erik the last five…”

“Very good,” he said, looking at her hair…

“It shouldn't be terribly difficult…a couple a weeks…we could have the killer by month’s end,” she finished with a lilt. The thought was suddenly real…perhaps they could have something to go on in a couple of week’s time. 

She was smiling, light, once more. She looked at Loki, a slight glow returning to her face.

He smiled at it. He loved that it didn’t take much to lift the weight from her. “Have you eaten, Jane?”

“No, actually…I haven't in some time, Loki.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…not since last evening,” she shrugged. 

“Jane Foster. Get your hat. I am getting you something to eat at Martha’s,” he stood and adjusted his coat and cap.

“And what a firm voice you use! Is this how you treat all of your friends?” she smiled, retrieving her hat.

“Only friends who neglect their health,” he opened the door for her. 

“What would I do without you?” she smiled, locking the door.

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” he said softly.

And they walked out into the night, not so dark…

.....

October is a bustle of leaves and dirt on London’s streets in 1888. It is a worrisome, foreboding time for those who walk. 

The Whitechapel Vigilance Committee had inadvertently gained a reputation. George Lusk had certainly aided in this, but it was acknowledged universally that he meant well.

No matter what Loki said, people still liked the fellow. 

It was the middle of the month now, and the patrols had begun once more after nearly two weeks since the double murder. It took a lot of convincing of wives that it would be safe for their husbands to patrol once more.

And they did.

It was October 16th, and Lusk had just arrived at his office in Spitalfield’s corner…just round the bend from the Market proper. 

He waked in, a bit later than usual, and went to the back of the office.

“Mornin’, Mr. Lusk!” came the postman’s voice.

“Ah, Hello Mr. Prior. How are you this morning?” he went to him.

“Well enough. ‘ere’s your letters…and…” he paused. “A package.”

“Package?” he took it. It was slightly heavy.

And the postman left, Lusk taking his letters and such to his desk.

He sat, and looked at the package. It was smallish…only about three inches square, and cardboard. He took the card off that was attached to it, and read the following:

From hell.  
Mr Lusk,  
Sor  
I send you half the Kidne I took from one woman and prasarved it for you tother piece I fried and ate it was very nise. I may send you the bloody knif that took it out if you only wate a whil longer

signed  
Catch me when you can Mishter Lusk

 

He stood in terror, eyeing the box.

He was terrified. Surely not…

And he opened it.

…inside was a pool of red, a stench of fermenting wine…vinegar, blood, and a thing…tiny in the pool…in the center.

He didn’t remember screaming.


	19. Life in Hell, Reaching for Heaven

Life in Hell, Reaching for Heaven

He honestly had no desire whatsoever to contact Thor about the list he received from Jane. He rather despised having to go to him at all with anything. 

But he wrote him, and expected a prompt reply.

Loki walked the letter to the post the morning of the 16th. It had only been yesterday that Jane gave him the list, but eager to see his task through, he wrote to Thor. Best see to it quickly and get it over with.

He was worried about her. He was also worried that she might decide that they shouldn't work so closely. Or that they should only work with Selvig…or…

He was deep in thought while walking. They hadn’t really used their names much…Clara and Tom. Perhaps they could revisit that and really heighten those identities. The names had been reduced to a bit of a joke between them.

He entered the office to find the police everywhere. “What’s going on?” he asked, suddenly fearful that another murder had taken place, and at the post no less.

“Who are you?” asked a tallish officer.

“A merchant in the Market,” Loki answered with a raised chin to assert his height over the officer.

“And your mercantile, I’m certain, needs you there, guvna,” the officer said with a steady look.

“Now see here…” Loki began.

“Loki!” called a familiar voice. 

“Selvig, good. What is going on here?” Loki turned toward him, after rolling his eyes with a steady sigh at the offending officer.

Erik took his arm and led him out of the post. “Nasty business, Loki. Very worrisome,” his eyes darted around.

“What happened?”

“Well, our friend Lusk….”  Loki held a finger up. “Not my friend Lusk.”

“You might change your mind after this…” Selvig cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “Well…he was sent a package. Inside the package was an organ…”

“What.” Loki demanded. “What did you say?”

“An organ. It was sent to the surgeon for examination.”

“Good god,” Loki ran his hand through his hair. “But…it could be an animal organ…”

“That’s certainly possible. A very bad joke,” Selvig nodded.

“Just so. A fake, like this absurd ‘Ripper’ name.”

“There was a note accompanying it…”

“A note?”

“Here,” and Selvig led him back to the post, out through the back door. The entire area had been closed off. The two made their way to Lusk’s office the back way, free of the bustle of the main thoroughfare…which was swarming with officers and a crowd. Selvig led Loki right through, and to the back where no one was. On Lusk’s desk was a stain of blood and wine, and wrapped in brown paper was the box and the note. Carefully Selvig took the note out and handed it to Loki.

He read it. “From hell,” he said. “The man lives in hell.”

Selvig shrugged.

“That is significant,” and he reread it. “It tells us something about him.”  “You think that this is genuine?”  “Well, if it turns out that the organ is human…then I do, actually. I think that this is our man.”

“Why would he decide to contact Lusk?”

“Because he isn't trying to be caught. Because he knows who is searching for him. Because there are fraudulent letters being submitted to news agencies for publicity. Because this man is suffering…in hell…and some crack is attempting to minimize his own suffering by labeling him some ‘ripper’.”

“His suffering, Loki?” and Selvig gave him a glare. “That is rather not the point.”

“To him it is! He’s in hell, detective…I suppose he could mean literally, in that his house or flat is in an especially hot place,” he paused. “But…no…I think that his suffering is acute. Perhaps he is very poor…”

“That doesn’t mesh with the witness reports, even your own.”

“No,” Loki’s brow furrowed. “No…but there are several possible explanations for that. Perhaps no one saw the actual killer…he could have stealthily murdered them all, lingering in shadow. He also could have nicked the clothes from a shop. You should see if any mercantile in the market has recently reported a robbery. Try Miss Lind’s…hers is the most frequented. If that isn't the case, then the former is likely.”

He was looking at Loki slyly. “You are a smart one, Mr Odinson. You should be a detective.”

Loki laughed. “Well, if it isn't a human organ, then this is all for naught. But I thank’ee, your compliment is generous.”

He smiled at him. “Will ya be headin’ for the apothecary, now?”

Loki looked at Selvig crookedly. “I hadn’t planned on it.”

“No?” and his smile broadened as he walked away. 

Good god he needed to check himself. Was he truly that obvious?

.....

Jane had spent the morning at the Times attempting to discover what she could about the names she had tasked for herself. 

She didn’t enjoy much luck, so she supposed that Plan B was in order. Plan B was infinitely more tedious and tiresome than her Plan A. 

She would need to visit the universities her four scientists had visited.

Perhaps she could piggy-back on Loki and have him write to Thor about her assignment as well.

Of course, that was cheating. And Jane wasn't a cheat.

Well, not usually, anyway.  

Jane walked toward the Market deep in thought, not really listening to the chatter of voices speaking in hushed, frightened tones about the letter…the organ…

“Twas a kidney, I ‘eard…”

“‘ow awful…”

“An’ be sure to get ye ‘ome as soon as ye can, mind.”  “To t’ink of it! A kidney, in de post!”

She caught the ends of these conversations, not really registering…not really hearing what they were saying…

Jane opened the door to her shop and slumped down. She thought that it would likely be quite busy that afternoon, seeing as how she had been closed all morning. 

She gathered herself, put the kettle on, and began seeing to opening up.

There was no mad rush, however. No great push to obtain medicine that she imagined there’d be.

Curious, that.

Jane prepared some salts which were ordinarily purchased, she swept the floor.

At around two in the afternoon, having had but one lone customer all day, she went to the front door and peered down the street. 

Hardly a soul to be seen.

Panic overtook her…had there been another murder? Had she simply not heard? And where was Loki? Thinking on it, it was odd that he hadn’t been to call all day. She shook…had he been injured, hurt, taken…?

Taken where? By whom?

Jane attempted to steady herself. She was letting her fancy get the better of her. He was likely just busy…

…but Asgard was never busy.

That was it. She ran to the back, grabbed her shawl and hat…closed the shop. What a waste. Nary enough made to purchase a single potato. She would have been better staying at home, seeing to her father.

Something was surely amiss. The Market was never so deserted in the middle of the afternoon! 

Jane picked up her pace and entered the bookshop in a breath. 

There was Fandral 

He looked up at her, a bit confusedly, no doubt because he was unaccustomed to anyone entering the shop in a rush. No one was that eager to purchase books.

“Jane! Is everything all right?”

She caught her breath and nodded…looking around.

And then she noticed movement in the back, and she craned her neck to see.

 Loki emerged from the back room. “Jane?”

“Good lord, Loki! What I’ve been thinking!” she went to him in a rush, but stopped just short of embracing him.

“What have you been thinking?”

“I…” she swallowed. “That is…” now she laughed. It sounded so silly…”I was worried because no one is about, and I wasn't certain where you were, and…” her voice trailed. She turned and went to the counter. “I see you are well, though.”

“I am,” he put his hands behind his back and glanced purposefully at Fandral. “Have you not heard?”

“Heard?”  

“I,” he looked at her, then away. “Well, I had thought, when you were not open this morning, that you had decided to keep the shop closed today, considering.”

“Considering what, exactly?” and now she was upset. He was being infuriating.

“Jane, what do you say we fetch an ale at the pub just there,” he nodded toward the corner of the market. The Ten Bells was situated on the corner of the Market. It was, for all intents and purposes, a nice enough place.

“An ale? But it’s only just after two…” she protested. 

“Better now than after the laborers are done and the place swells to the brim,” he grabbed his jacket and cap from the back.

Fandral smiled at Jane and shrugged. She returned his smile. “He seems oddly in a good enough mood. Was there another murder?” she ended in a hush.

“No, Miss Foster, thank the Lord. Though it is curious that you’d think he’s in a fine mood if there was a murder.”  

“Whom are you speaking of?” Loki re-entered.

Jane’s gaze snapped to him. She smiled widely and went over to him, smoothing out his jacket to distract him. “Are you certain this isn't improper, Loki? Drinking in the middle of the afternoon!” she quipped.

“It’s fine, Jane,” he nodded, unsettled by her attention. “Fandral, would you mind?”

“Not at all, boss,” he called as the pair left for the pub. “Poor Jane Foster.”

.....

Loki was fairly silent as they walked across the square, which was simply infuriating for Jane. 

“Do you plan on telling me what this is about, or shall I guess?”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “I think that your guessing might prove to be an interesting, fun diversion.”

“Fun!” she hissed.

“And what’s wrong with a bit of fun, Jane Foster? Not much to be had these days.”

“And why do you suppose that is, hm?” he opened the door for her and she entered, finding them a table by the window. After he sat across from her, she continued on. “It couldn't be…oh I don’t know. Women are being quite literally butchered in the streets. Fun isn't exactly something I am thinking about.”

“Perhaps you ought to,” and Loki raised a finger toward the keep. 

“What it be, then?” asked said keep.

“Two ales, if you please,” replied Loki, and off he went to fetch the drinks. He raised his eyebrows in question to Jane, then hunched his shoulders expectantly toward her. “You know, in order to guess, you’ll need to speak. Though I am well versed in many things, mind reading is not, unfortunately, among them.”

“For someone espousing to know yourself, Loki…you really have missed your calling in life. You ought to perform on stage. Your humor knows no limit,” their drinks came and she sipped. 

“I gathered no guess in your speech,” he returned, sipping his own ale.

She rolled her eyes. “All right. Let me see…You discovered something already about your assigned scientists.”

“Now, why would the Market be deserted for that reason? You aren’t using that lovely head of yours, Jane,” he looked at her steadily.

She blushed, and her eyes fell under his stare. “No. No I suppose not…there hasn't been a murder…”

“No…”

She furrowed her brow in thought…and a conversation she overheard on the way back to the apothecary came to mind. “Another letter?”

He lifted his forefinger. “Ah, very good.”

She smiled. She waited…another eye roll. “Loki, would you please just tell me?!”

He laughed, and downed his drink. “Have some more, Jane.”

“I don’t want…”

But he stood and went to obtain something stronger, more potent. 

Whiskey.

Loki took two ales, two whiskeys, and dropped the whiskey into the ale, carrying them over to their table. He thought that more uninhibited they were, the better Jane might digest this unsettling information.

“Drink this quickly,” he said, handing it to her and sitting back down.

“Quickly…?” she looked at it, then at him.

He was guzzling the drink, his Adam’s Apple bobbing with the effort. Jane swallowed. And she mimicked his action. 

Loki watched her, and was mildly amused by the display. Jane was no drinker, and it showed in her feeble attempt to down the drink. 

She finished, then looked at him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked her.

“Odd.”

“Good, now…”

She started to giggle. “Odd is a funny word.”

Oh my. He might have given her a bit too much…”Jane. Can you think clearly?”

“What?” she hiccuped.

Good god she was far gone. And after two drinks…”Listen, Jane. There was another letter, just as you had surmised.”  “…I like receiving letters…”

“Yes,” he decided to sit next to her to gain her attention. He took her hands in his. 

“Your hands are so….big,” she breathed as he held hers. 

“Family trait,” he muttered. “Now, Selvig showed me this letter, Jane, and I have reason to believe that it is from the actual…”

“You’re handsome,” she smiled. “I always thought so…but now, in the light and everything and drinks and killings…you look nicely.”

He dropped her hands. He couldn't decide if he was more irritated at himself for giving her too much alcohol when he knew she never drank much, or if he was completely overcome from her admission to finding him handsome. 

It was likely a draw.

He rubbed his face. “Jane. Listen,” and he turned toward her once more. She was hazy-eyed and smiling. 

“I’m listening,” and she hiccuped. “I’m sorry, Loki, for ever having liked Thor. I know that you don’t really like him. He’s too blonde…”

“Jane…”

“…and I’m sorry that I’ve been so dismissive of you in the past. But you really are irritating…”

“Jane.”

“…but you must know that I know that I’m irritating, too. And that I don’t know what I’d do without you now. You are my best friend,” she choked.

He swallowed, looking at her steadily. He never had a best friend before… “Oh, Jane. You are my best friend, as well.”

She laughed. 

Then she started to cry, and her face fell onto his shoulder. She began to sob. 

And Loki rolled his eyes and patted her back, “Hush now, Jane. Everything is all right.”

“No it’s not!” her voice was muffled in his chest. “It’s not because women are dying and father is ill and you are handsome and poor Mary and all those letters and how am I going to discover those scientists and all I want to do is kiss you again!”

He froze. 

She froze…she realized what she had just said…and she slowly began to disentangle herself from him…never meeting his gaze.

And just then, a man came into the pub, and then a pair of men right behind. 

Jane sat stoic and still, as the pair who had immediately followed the man were talking loudly. 

“An’ I ‘eard dat der wuz an’organ…”

“Kidney wuz what I ‘eard…”

“Jus’ awful it’is…’fraid ta go in der streets, I tell ye.”

“An’ did ye ‘ear ‘bout Mary?”

The single man, dressed darkly, moved closer, and it happened that he was now closer to Jane and Loki…though he wasn't facing them.

“Na. Whadya ‘ear now? She is summat, dat Mary.”

“I done ‘eared dat she swore not ta take no more John’s. Same wit mos’ of dem girls.”

There was a pause. “Is dat ‘er?”

“Where?”

“Der…wit dat genteel-lookin’ bloke…”

And it was then that Loki realized that they meant Jane. She must have felt it, too, for her felt her stiffen despite the space between them. 

Jane didn’t want to be thought of as Mary…though she wasn't even certain that it was Mary Kelly they were referring to. Should she hide her face or should she leave? 

Her mind was racing, despite the drink…

…but the drink emboldened her…she wouldn't run.

She turned quickly to Loki, who had been staring at her out if the corner of his eye. She grabbed him, and she kissed him.

…and all else faded from the world…her hands went up his chest, and the kiss deepened a touch…she ran her fingers up to his hair, while he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, along with her chair. 

He couldn't seem to get her close enough…he longed to stand and bring her with him, press her against the wall…but he kept her there, and satisfied himself with the fact that his right hand was wandering up toward her breast, and that he could almost feel its swell…his thumb graced the base of it, and she shuddered. 

Over and over the kiss lazed on, long past an appropriate diversion…his left hand dropped to nearly her bottom, while his right rubbed her abdomen, longing to move upward, but not daring to…he couldn't decipher if this was part of the act or not…

Jane pulled away first, her breathing was labored, she was aroused utterly, her pupils blown in desire. She swallowed. “Are they gone?” she asked, looking at his mouth, a bit swollen from the kiss. 

He nodded, unable to speak.

And they were.

He moved away further, but his eyes never left Jane’s face. He was trying desperately to read her reaction to what had just transpired between the two of them. 

Jane leaned back in her seat. “They thought that I was Mary.”

Loki went to take a drink from his mug, but it was empty. “What sort of establishment is this? My mug is empty!” he said loudly in the direction of the keep. Loki shifted a bit, his arousal plain enough as the keep came over to him.

“Da type of establishment, guvna, where folk don’t eat one another’s faces off,” and he took the mugs and went to refill them. 

Loki followed him with his eyes, with a slight glare to boot. “I’ll rethink returning here…”

“Loki?”

He then looked at Jane, a confused look on her face. “Jane,” and he stood and went to the opposite side of the table where he originally sat. He cleared his throat. The drinks came, and Loki sipped long…Jane simply stared at hers. 

“What just happened?”

“Well, t’was all a bit of a blur…” he sipped again. “But I think, one of the men here thought that you were someone named Mary, and then…I’m supposing that this was an effort to deflect attention…you kissed me.”

“I kissed you,” she repeated.

“Just so.”

Jane gulped. “Well…” she didn’t mention her speech leading up to her indiscretion. 

Nor did Loki.

“Well…” Jane began once more. “Erm…you were going to tell me something?”

“Ah, yes. Yes…” he drank the rest. “Have another sip, Jane.”

She did.

“A letter was sent to Lusk this day,” he related in low tones. “It came addressed ‘From Hell,’ and it was accompanied by an organ,” he swallowed, looking steadily at her. “A human kidney,” Selvig had confirmed it to be human a few hours previous.

Jane’s eyes were wide. She downed her ale. And then she felt ill. 

“Jane. I think…I believe that this is from the man.”

“Why?” she whispered.

“Because…he sounds desperate. And this man…he is desperate…” Loki stated this with a hint of expertise in desperation.

....

….the place was hot, very.

He hadn’t cleaned nor opened a window in months…perhaps years…

Though he had been there but months…

…it felt like years.

He sat at all hours, hating, listening, waiting, hoping…

Though he knew that no hope was to be had.

None.

And he waited for November to arrive….


	20. Closer to the Heart

Not unlike ivy on the house they laid in, their limbs intertwined and nearly fused with the very mortar of their cells. They moved, she groaned, he stirred, as one…the chink of light slipping through the sparse curtain, not really shielding anything from anyone, had made its way to the head of the bed. 

She untangled herself, and he moved closer to her, kissing her temple. 

She smiled. 

“Mornin’, she said with a raspy voice. 

“Morning, lovely,” Fandral said.

She laughed and got up. “Ye be too sentimental, Fandral Adamson…”

“And what if I was?” he pulled the blanket up around him. 

“Nuthun’,” said Mary. “But ye need ta allow me ta go an’ get me doss. I can’ be takin’ yer money.”

“What’s the difference if I give it to you or you get it from some bloke on the street?”

Mary went over to him and sat on the bed next to him. “The difference bein’…ye be thinkin’ ‘ders more ta dis dan der is.”

“I know what this is, Mary.”

“Na, ya don’,” she placed her palm alongside his face. “Ya be a romantic…yer ‘ead in dem books. See t’aint’ nuthun romantic ‘bout life.”

“There is if you love someone.”

“Ya see?” and she stood.

“What. What is so awful about love?”

She shook her head, and went to the bathroom outside of her flat, leaving him there. 

Fandral swallowed. He should propose to her. End this charade. Commit to her in a way that proved to her that he loved her. 

For he did, he knew he did, he always had…and she knew it too…he could provide something of a life for her. 

He got up and began to clothe himself, 

Mary reentered the room. “Still ‘ere, are ya?” she laughed.

“Mary…” he began, not really looking at her. 

“Hm?” and she fiddled with her hair.

Fandral swallowed. “Never mind,” and he went over, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed the back of her head softly.

.....

“We should go,” Jane said, not really seeing or hearing or feeling anything at all.

Loki nodded, the place had begun to fill. It was five in the evening now, and the first of the laborers were getting off work.

They got up, Jane a bit unsteadily, and left The Ten Bells.

“Are you all right?” he asked as they walked across the market square. 

“No,” Jane replied. 

“Should I not have said anything to you?” he swallowed.

“No no. You were right,” Jane wouldn't say that her mood was mostly enhanced by her having kissed him.

She needed to figure this whole thing out. 

They walked a bit more, and Loki shoved his hands in his pockets…deep in thought. “Jane, I understand that things are a bit confused with what we are attempting to do here…but I think…” he took a steadying breath. He couldn't believe what he was about to say. “I think that we should really concentrate on the task at hand without adding the complicated issue of…erm…frequent passionate embraces…?” whatever that meant.

Jane looked at him. 

What was he saying? He didn’t want to kiss her? He didn’t like kissing her? She was a rubbish kisser? 

…he felt something, too, and was confused by it all…?

“You don’t want me to kiss you anymore, is that it?” but she was playful.

“Ah…well…the thing is, Jane…” I have these warm feelings and I’m confused and I think I know just how very deep they are but I am terrified of rejection and I cannot bear the thought of losing what we already have if and when you reject me so while I want nothing more for us to continue kissing - and perhaps a bit more. All right, a lot more - I’m not certain that I can truly handle it. “While it’s all lovely,” he looked at her meaningfully. “I believe that it confuses things. It’s a bit…distracting.”

Jane blushed. She was horrified. He thought that she was either throwing herself at him or he was completely turned off by her. “I’m sorry, Loki. I truly am. I had no intention of distracting you or the purpose of our alignment.”

They left Whitechapel proper. 

“Jane, look. I hope that you realize that the only reason I agreed to this at the outset was to ensure your safety.”

“And what is your reason now?”

“Well, it’s complicated…” 

And it was…he wanted to ensure her safety.  
He wanted to catch the killer.  
He wanted to be near her…

And he felt all of these things in almost equal measure, for they were bound and threaded and depended on one another.

“You’re a smart man, Loki Odinson. Try to explain to me,” Jane said as they entered Algate.

He swallowed. “I…want…wish…to see this monster hanged. I believe that we all of us are in constant, imminent danger. Sometimes even without a maniacal killer on the loose,” they approached her street and turned. “So, in that light, I am both ensuring your safety, as well as my own, and Fandral’s. As well as doing my part for the community at large. But there is more still…” 

Her house now. 

Jane stopped and turned toward him, looking up at him eagerly.

Loki’s hands were still in his pockets. He was staring at the ground. 

“Jane…I care about you as much, if not more, as I have for anyone I have ever known. These past two months have afforded me a friendship I never knew I could have,” now he looked at her. “As I have said, I am not a well-liked man. And I’m truly fine with that. However,” and he took a step nearer to her. “If anything were to happen to you, I truly believe that I would not recover. So I must needs stay near you…you are nearly all I have. So, in order to ensure that we stay on task, I think it prudent that this…” he bent down and kissed her cheek softly, but lingered a touch, and without pulling away, whispered in her ear. “…is as close as we should get,” and then he pulled away from her. 

Her eyes were closed. She wasn’t breathing. 

…and when she opened her eyes, she found Loki looking at her fixedly. 

She nodded. “I see your point.”

“Good,” he smiled. “Tomorrow?”

She swallowed. “MmHm. Yes. Good night, Loki,” she turned and went up the stairs. She didn’t look back…she couldn’t. Not after such a display. 

Jane took off her wrap, her hat. “Hello father. I’m rather tired. Heading to bed now,” she said without inflection from the hall.

“Don’t you want dinner? Darcy left some…” Doctor Foster emerged from the doorway of the sitting room, a confused look about him.

But she was already making her way upstairs. “Not hungry,” she called back. And she wasn’t. She was feeling the lingering after effects of the alcohol still…

Jane laid down on her tiny bed, folded her hands across her stomach, and smiled. 

What a day!

Though she knew that she should be simultaneously horrified and excited about the “From Hell” letter…horrified that a kidney was mailed to poor George Lusk, excited because the killer was that much closer to being caught…she could think only of one thing.

Loki.

She had kissed him.

He had admitted a strong attachment to her. And then kissed her sweetly…

…it was the single most romantic thing she had ever experienced.

Romantic! She smiled, she blushed, and turned on her side…she, Jane Foster, being moved by romance! Absurd.

And yet…

She had discovered her own fancy for him not so long ago. Why shouldn't she be moved romantically? 

“…as close as we should get…”

She sat up. Did he mean permanently? Surely not…surely he meant only while they were working on solving this thing. 

And what did that mean? Did Jane want to pursue a romance with him? She, now in her early thirties, determined to care for her father and work at the shop…was she wanting a man in her life in that capacity? 

She had dismissed it before when she felt the inclination creep in her mind. 

But now…

She smiled, almost giggled. To think! Loki, who had always bothered her beyond measure! Was that nothing more than a flirtatious dance they were engaged in all the while? 

She took her pillow and hugged it fiercely, falling to her side. 

How blind you are, Jane Foster! 

And the alcohol pressed its lips to her cells, ticking her mind, nudging her heart, filling her dreams…

…and she’d wake with a newfound understanding of her regard for the owner of Asgard.

.....

He entered his flat and stood there a moment. 

He would not allow himself…

…he could not hope to want.

But oh! how he wanted…

Never in his life had he wanted so badly. He could still taste her, feel her lips against his, her tongue…her hands…

She had very slowly, and yet with lightening fast speed, become his everything. 

And the question he knew the answer to, the question he asked himself in moments of both quiet and chaos filled his mind. Did he, then…?

He did. 

Though he could not bear to say it…though he had known now for many weeks hence, he could not think the word…

It somehow made it real.

Loki went and sat in his chair, rubbed his face, and sighed deeply.

She had to care about him. She simply had to.

…and his mind drifted…he fancied it was morning…

He closed his eyes, sat back, and allowed himself to slip into reverie…

...“Loki?” her voice came from next to him. She was wrapped around him, and her mouth was close to his ear.

“Hm?” he said through morning’s haze.

“Wake up, love.”

He stretched and turned toward her…his wife…as lovely as anything, and surprisingly naked. “Jane…the children!” he covered her.

“They are long at school, husband. Come now, would you believe me to be so unthinking as that?” she nuzzled his neck.

And he felt himself stir. “No, indeed. But you are a vixen, are you not?” he turned her to her back, savoring the sight of her. 

And they made love…

He wouldn't allow himself the details. It would likely undo him utterly.

The pain of not knowing her heart was acute. He believed that there was something there. He had to. 

But he would never admit to himself that his own heart was dependent on her rejoinder…which is why he kept avoiding it, even in his own mind.

Silly sentimental tendencies! 

He sighed and went to bed…

…and dreamt of the Apothecary and her many (many) charms.

.....

“Morning, Fandral,” said the bookshop owner from behind the counter. 

“Boss,” returned the clerk, and he hung up his outerwear. “How are you this morning?”

“Well enough,” Loki was looking at a piece of paper.

“What’s that?”

“A letter from my brother,” he returned, and stood.

“From Thor?”

“Yes. You are quick, Fandral. How did you reach that conclusion? Seeing as how I have but one brother.”

Fandral rolled his eyes. “What is he writing you for?” he went to the back and brewed some tea.

“For the case,” he replied, and went to open the front door. He did so, then realized it was much too cold for that. He closed it again. 

“You aren’t a detective, Loki,” he handed him a cup.

“Thank you. I’m so fortunate to have you lurking abut reminding me of my job in life. Do be sure to stop me before I wander into Buckingham Palace,” he rolled his eyes and went to the back.

“I simply don't want you or Jane to get hurt.”

“It is my personal mission to ensure her safety,” he said, returning.

Fandral looked at him crookedly. “Loki…please, for the love of god, tell Jane that you love her.”

He began to protest. “I wish you’d mind your business.”

“This is my business! You have made it my business!”

“I see,” he paused. “Tell me, what of Mary?”

“Excuse me?”

Loki laughed a touch. “No, I don’t think I will. Does Mary know that you love her?”

Fandral shifted. He sat behind the counter and downed his tea. “I don't know what you mean.”

“No. Well, shall we employ that irritating adage, black kettle something or other?”

  “So you admit it!” he pointed at him.

“Only insofar as you are admitting anything,” he smirked, and returned to the back, retrieving his coat.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m off to catch a ripper,” replied Loki.

He laughed. “No…I’m serious.”

“As am I. I am visiting Selvig, as he has become woefully negligent in his promise to visit in the mornings…so…I shall visit him.”

“Is Selvig the ripper?” breathed Fandral.

Loki stared at him. “Yes. And I am the Queen of England,” and he left.

“Well. That would explain a lot,” said Fandral. “Poor Erik Selvig.”

.....

Loki went to the Yard with purpose and poise. He was not certain of the list he had been assigned, in fact, he was fairly confident that none of them were the man they were looking for. 

So, he was off to see if Selvig had any luck in this regard. 

In he walked, and was greeted forthwith by an angry looking fellow. “And who might you be?”

He felt as though the officers asked him this question a bit too frequently. “Loki Odinson. I’m here to see Detective Inspector Selvig.”

He surveyed him with narrow eyes. “‘’e’s in his office.”

“Thank you,” and he went off. 

He disliked the Yard. It smelled off and was unnecessarily dark. He went to Selvig’s office and rapped on the door.

“Come in,” called Erik.

Loki went in, and sat across from him with a flounce. “You have been neglecting your end of the bargain, my man.”

“I’ve been rather busy, Loki. You know, kidneys in the post and such.”

He ignored this. “Have you looked at your list at all?”

“I have, yes. And nothing struck me as peculiar.”

“Nor mine. I wonder about Jane’s.”

Erik looked at him crookedly. “You mean, you don’t know?” he smiled.

“No. I don't know,” he rolled his eyes. “I’m not her husband, recall?”

“Not yet,” Selvig sat back in his chair.

“Erik, are you being purposefully impossible, or is it simply the nature of an officer to drive one mad?”

“Both, I think.”

Loki smirked and sighed. “I was going to visit with her, and thought that you might like to accompany me.”

“Oh! Are you certain that you don't want her all to yourself?” he stood.

No. I’m quite sure that I do, which is why I think I should have a chaperone. “I don't know what you mean,” and he stood now. “Shall we?”

“After you,” and Erik opened the door for him.

.....

Jane was scrubbing the floor of the apothecary as though she held a personal vendetta against it. She had enjoyed some success with her names, and was biding her time, waiting for either Loki or Erik to show. 

Or both.

But mostly Loki.

Her hair was falling from her bun at the base of her neck, and she had broken into a sweat. The streets were still not fully recovered from the double murder or the From Hell letter, so business was rather slow.

She hoped that she’d be able to act natural around him…

And now was her chance to test it, she realized, as the bell rang.

Jane stood from being on all fours and wiped her brow with the back of her hand. She turned, and faced Erik…and Loki.

She smiled, blushed…”Hello,” she said awkwardly.

Selvig immediately noticed the change in the air, and cleared his throat. This was uncomfortable. “Miss Foster,” he nodded. “Any luck with your names?”

“I’ve…” she stole a glance at Loki, who was swallowing and looking at the floor. “I…ah…” she laughed a touch. “Names. No…I mean yes. Yes…I’ve eliminated the first two,” she smiled at Erik, looked once more at Loki, then at her feet. “You?”

“None of mine appear to be at all suspicious,” he looked to his left. “Loki?”

He jumped a touch. “No. Thor wrote…he knows them all. None were doing medical research.”

Selvig nodded. “Well, that’s that,” he said, and turned to leave,

“You’re leaving?” Jane said in a hurry.

Loki’s eyes snapped to her. 

“I mean…” she smiled. “I have tea in the back…”

“No, I thank’ee. I best be going,” and he rushed from the place. Those two had better figure themselves out, thought he.

Jane cleared her throat and stole a glance at Loki. She went to the back to start the tea and steady herself. 

Calm down, Jane Foster. It’s just Loki. 

“Tea, Loki?” she called, her voice cracking a bit. 

“Yes please,” he sat on the fainting couch. He had better just get used to her presence…even after all that transpired the day previous. “How has your day been?” he called.

Jane returned with two cups. “Good, thank’ee. Not terribly busy,” and she sat across from him in her chair. “Just two names left, Loki.”

“Mm. It’ll be the last one we research,” he smiled.

“Do you think that we have the motive?”

“Yes, I think so…but I’ve been wrong before.”

“You?” she breathed dramatically.

“Well, it has been known to happen,” he smirked. “Albeit not terribly often…” he paused. “Once. I recall being wrong once.”

Jane laughed. “I don’t believe it.”

“’Tis true…and I vowed to never do that again,” he returned her laugh. And an uncomfortable silence fell…and he thought about going to her, kissing her madly, tearing her bodice in two…”Well, shall we attempt another go tomorrow evening?”

Jane looked at him in shock…did he mean…? “Pardon?” 

Loki furrowed his brow. “I meant, shall we attempt to walk again for a bit tomorrow evening?” what did she think he meant?

“Oh. Oh,” she smiled and blushed. “Yes. That sounds good.”

He nodded. “Will you stay open much longer, Jane?”

“No,” she sighed, slouching back in her chair. “Business has been dreadfully slow.”

He nodded. “Shall I see you home, then?”

“Lovely,” she said softly and saw to tidying up. It was early yet, and she thought it might be nice to have dinner with her father for once.

After a short while, Jane finished, and retrieved her wrap and her hat, and locked the door behind them. 

It was nearly the end of October. The chill was fixed, and there was a thought that the murders might indeed be over.

“About last evening, Jane…” he began.

“Shh…” she said. “Think nothing of it,” she smiled. 

“I only don’t want there to be any discomfort between us,” he said.

“I know. And we will fall into ease once more.”

He nodded. “Jane?”

“Hm?” she looked at him.

“Thank you.”

“What for?” she smiled.

“For being you…”

Jane’s eyes welled…he hadn’t looked at her once during the whole of his speech. She turned and stared at the ground as they walked. “I can’t help it, Loki. You bring out the best in me.”

…the peace of the moment was a soothing potation, a needed elixir, a remedy, for neither knew how dark the days were about to become…despite the falling sun.


	21. Hell is Empty

Hell is Empty

~What is hell? I maintain that it is the suffering of being unable to love.  
Dostoyevsky

.....

Lest we forget, the women walk.  
They walk, for they are too poor to stay still.  
They walk, and no one looks at them. No one loves them…

Save one.

Mary Kelly was a fireball, so said many. She was headstrong, and that was her downfall, for in that time, a headstrong woman must be silenced. 

She heard things, she spoke of them, she cared not who heard her. 

And perhaps she should have, for the streets were comprised of many souls, most of which possess ears. 

This was what started the interest in her, for she was quite lovely, but she talked. She enjoyed attention, at least marginally. 

And yes, she knew that more than one bloke fancied her. 

Just how many, she couldn't rightly say. 

Though Fandral, she was certain, was among them. 

Poor sod.

She wasn't afraid. She didn’t understand Fandral’s intense fear. After all, what would happen, would happen whether he was afraid or not. 

.....

In hell he dwelt. And he had no scruples, he couldn't afford them. He had no heart, he was too broke. He knew of the need the American had, and he pounced on it, for when one is desperate, one is rash. 

And he knew that no one would attempt it, because no one had the guts to. 

He didn’t care.

And the apathy dripped like acid from his lips…

He knew Mary Kelly…he knew that she was on to him, but he wasn't certain if she realized it. So close…too close…she had come.

He had fucked her once. 

And he thought that she was lovely.

He would sometimes dream of her…and the night, red and dark, and moans and fingers, the taste of salt and the warm embrace of young Mary. 

He followed her occasionally…seeing what and whom she was up to. 

And he was coiling with ferocity and envy, for he knew what he was.

…there is nothing more pathetic than a monster who realizes what he is…

…and that a young maid would never look at him unless he paid her to.

But work was scarce. And he needed to eat.

He hadn’t really eaten the kidney. But it was a laugh to think that there were those who believed him capable of it. 

He had to send it…to think, some newsman was out there, assigning him an identity! That man had no idea who he was…what he was…what he could do if he allowed himself…

He lived in hell. A dreadful place, to be sure. 

He lived there, and it had no food, no reliable bed, no blanket for warmth, nothing but black walls and hard floors and scary sounds and empty passageways.

Hell was empty.

Save him.

.....

"Messrs Stark own “Stark Industry” in the Philadelphia region. The company, still relatively new, is known for its advances in such areas as locomotion, agriculture, and biology."

Biology.

Jane read it again. Yes…it definitely said biology.

Two of her other names were disposed of, Nathan Cobb and Anthony Stark the only names remaining. 

Cobb was a biologist, but he dealt mostly with the naming of species.

Stark, though…he was more exploratory and radical. He might actually be someone to seriously consider…

Jane took some notes and shoved them in her bag. She was at the Times archive. 

She put her head down and left the place. 

Jane made her way back to Spitalfields, her mind racing. Was she onto something here? Was she on the precipice of defining the motive?

She was positively light with excitement. 

She unlocked her door to the apothecary and opened up in earnest. She had better start keeping more consistent hours…her clientele were already complaining about her inconsistency. 

She smiled all the while she tended to her tasks, thinking that Loki would be visiting later on.

And they were to go out that evening, comb the streets for clues.

How suddenly different everything seemed when one was…

She stopped herself.

What was she? 

Her heart knew, but Jane wasn't quite ready to admit to anything just yet…she needed some time. It had been but a couple of days since he had walked her home, thanking her for being, well…her. 

They had decided to wait until that evening to roam.

It was November 8th. 

Jane had spent the past week going through the motions, doing what she could for her father, avoiding walking with Loki…it had been frightfully cold. But he continued to visit, and most nights, he walked her home.

But the weather was suddenly a touch warmer that day, and Jane thought that to walk about that evening would be all right.

They hadn’t been discussing their project much, as nothing new had occurred. 

For three months they had lived in uncertain terror, and the lull had made her lax. She didn’t mind. She needed to exhale, to breathe deeply and for just a short while, not be consumed by the murders. 

She enjoyed Loki’s company, and that was the extent of her reprieve.

He was much more amiable than she gave him credit for. 

She decided not to do herself up in any remarkable fashion when they went out that evening. She would simply go, and try to remain calm, the way she had been heretofore. 

But what was going through her mind as of late was nothing that would ensure her composure…

She almost felt guilty about it. Almost.

When Loki would walk her home, she would fantasize about him taking her into an alley and kissing her, pressing her against a wall, much the way their first kiss was.

Or sometimes she would lie in bed, and think about him appearing, maybe because he couldn't stand to be away from her…and he would crawl into bed with her…

However, her being a virgin, in the strictest of senses, disallowed her reverie to take her terribly far.

She was frustrated by it.

Jane saw to a few customers, and the evening could not come fast enough. She found herself the past few days, just waiting for Loki to arrive.

And when he did, she was embarrassed, and she would be silent until he spoke.

Childish tendencies! 

She blushed. 

…and the door opened.

Jane turned and saw Loki there, hands in pockets, heading for the fainting couch. “What a day,” he sighed.

“Indeed?” said she, sitting across from him.

His head was back, and he then lifted it and looked at Jane…

…was it possible that she had grown lovelier since he had seen her some eighteen hours previous? 

Yes. Yes it was.

He swallowed and rubbed his face, and then leaned forward. “Fandral is insisting that Mary is in some sort of danger, so he wasn't at the shop today.”  

“She is? Do you think that she is?” 

“I think she has always been, Jane. She is a prostitute, and what’s more, she continues to walk despite the recent…events,” he paused. “Fandral also reports that she has not paid her rent in over a month despite the fact that he gives her money quite regularly.”

“What…?”

“Drink.”

“Ah.”

“Yes. He is very concerned,” Loki continued.

“Yes…” and she sat back. “What is giving him this fierce newfound concern? There hasn't been a murder in a month.”

“I’m not certain, but it seems to him…” he paused. “I think that he fancies himself being followed, or else watched when he is around her flat.”

Jane considered this for a moment. “What if he stayed with her? Moved in? Or better yet, had her move in with him? He obviously…”

“He won’t.”  

“Why ever not?”

“Because…” Loki glanced at her and then the floor. “He doesn’t think that she reciprocates.”

Jane’s brow furrowed. “But…Fandral…he’s a handsome man…”  

“Is he now?” Loki looked at her, brows creased.

“Well, yes. Of course he is. Why wouldn't a woman enjoy his attentions?”

“Perhaps there is more to a person than their outward appearance, Jane. How shallow you are! Perhaps she desires something more substantial in her mate. Perhaps, while he is handsome enough, he lacks intellectual dexterity and humor…these are desirable traits as well,” he finished in a breath.

Jane was staring at him, smirking. “You are quite right, Loki. It is fortunate that you have all of these desirable traits in excess,” and she stood. “Shall we walk?”

He collected himself, feeling a bit silly following such a display, and rose from the couch. “Well, where do you suppose we should venture this evening, Jane?” he buttoned his jacket.

“What if we remained relatively close to the Market?” she put her wool jacket on, abandoning her wrap for the heavier garment.

“Have you a reason for this deviation from our norm?”

“Well,” she finished closing up the windows and followed him out the door. “It’s been a while since we walked. And perhaps we should open our possibilities a touch.”

He nodded, and they made their way across the square. “There has been a slight increase in traffic the past few evenings,” he observed. “I noticed on my way home last night.”

“I’ve never been to your home.”

“Well,” he turned and smiled at her. “We should see to that.”

“Yes…’tis only fair. You’ve been to my home several times now,” she smirked. “Shall we go to the Ten Bells again?”

He hesitated a moment, as that was the place she kissed him…”If you like.”

....

The place had a good deal of ladies in it…it appeared that they had begun work inside due to the chill, and were all chatting loudly.

One lady was alone at the wooden bar. She looked especially forlorn.

Loki went to her. “Do you need some food?” he asked her.

“Na, guvna. But me babe does,” she smiled softly.

He nodded, and gave her five pounds. “Get ye home,” he said.

She took it gently, as though disbelieving…”Ya sure?”

He nodded, and turned away.

The woman looked at Loki retreating, and a tear formed in her eye. So seldom was anyone genuinely kind to her…

He went to Jane and sat opposite her after retrieving two ales.

No whiskey that evening.

Well…he looked at her a moment…perhaps, if it gets very late…

No. Stop it Loki. You are her friend, at least for now…

And a smirk played upon his face. 

“What?” Jane asked, smiling.

“Hm?” he snapped out of it. “What?”

“You were smiling.”

“Oh…nothing…just thinking…”

Jane looked at him crookedly, “What were you saying to that woman?”

“Woman?” his eyebrows creased.

“Just there… a moment ago…” she indicated with a glance where she was referring to.

“Oh…evidently, she had a child, and I gave her a few pounds for food,” he sipped. He glanced at Jane. “Look, Jane …I believe we’ve had this conversation before. You are looking at me in a most frustrating manner. I cannot read minds.”

“Loki…”

He raised his eyebrows in question.

“You are…incredible.”

His gaze fell, and he actually blushed. “I’m not,” he muttered.

“No. It’s true. You…helped her.”

“Is that incredible?” he said softly. “I find it painfully paltry. These people…” he looked around. “They have nothing, or next to it. And I have…means. What if I could give them more…”

Jane swallowed. “This is unlike you. Not that you were ever unfeeling, but that you…you never felt compelled…”

“To help?” he interrupted. “No. But spending this time with them, despite the fact that I work alongside…I never truly understood what fear they live with. What uncertainty. The pathos…” he shook his head.

“Loki…”

He downed his drink. “It is,” he continued, finishing it. “The most unfair of circumstances…our killer…he thinks them all dispensable…and you know? They are.”

She furrowed her brow.

“It’s true. I don’t feel that way. But the rest of the world does. And they are treated accordingly.”

Music began to play, a fiddler stood and started playing his fiddle, stomping his feet…

“It doesn’t need to be that way,” she was looking at the fiddler, and now another violin player rose…”We don’t need to be this way. We can start something.”

“Something?” 

She drank deeply and Loki ordered two more, and then she looked at him. “A revolt.”

He stared at her. “How?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know…”

And a bass began to play.

She smiled. “Let’s dance, Loki.”

“Dance?” he looked at the fiddlers.

“You’re all questions tonight. Yes! Come on!” Jane got up, and took his hands. 

“Get up an’ dance wit dis girl,” came a voice.

“Mary!” Jane exclaimed. 

“‘ello, Miss,” she smiled. “Well, ya sorry sod. Get ye off yer arse…go an’ dance wit ‘er!” she clapped Loki on his back, and she smiled broadly. “Go on, den!”

Loki looked at her, and returned her smile. “All right, all right…let’s go,” he followed Jane to the floor.

And they began to dance…

…the noise of the room pulsed as they moved to the quick step.   Jane twirled and twisted around in his arms…she had no idea what she was doing, she hadn’t danced in ages. 

The room’s inhabitants were stomping…there was glee…joy…laughter…Jane was being swung about, she was mad with laughter…

…and Loki joined in. It had been so long since he had laughed so hard. His face hurt from it…

Jane twirled into his chest, her palms against it, her forehead rested on his shirt. She didn’t look up, but the music suddenly slowed. She swayed in time with it without looking up her partner, but he moved along with her. 

And he wrapped his arms around her.

And she wrapped her arms around him.

They were very close, nary a chink of light could be spied between them. He rested his head on hers, his jaw on the side of her head. 

And she felt safe.

And he felt safe…

“Jane,” he whispered.

“Hm?”

He swallowed. “I…nothing…”

She pulled away and looked up at him. “What?” she said softly.

He was looking from her mouth to her eyes and back again…”I…”

They stopped moving, the music had stopped.

“Loki!” 

He stepped away from her, then looked in the direction of the voice.

It was Fandral.

“Fandral?”

Jane tore her gaze from Loki to look at him…”Fandral?”

“I’m sorry…” he looked at them both…had he just inadvertently sabotaged something important…? “Ah. Look…I was wondering if you might walk Mary home, Loki. I think that it’s suspicious that I keep doing it.”

“How did you know that I was here?”

“Mary mentioned it.”

Loki nodded, then looked at Jane. “Would you stay here? I’ll return and see you home…”

“I…” Jane didn’t want him to go. She felt a pang of jealousy. “Of course. She doesn’t live far, right?”  “Only ten minutes. And I’ll stay here with Jane,” Fandral smiled.

“Oh all right,” said Loki. “Where is she?”

“Just out front.”

Loki smiled at Jane and took his jacket. “Stay here. I’ll be back momentarily.”

“I’ll be waiting…” she smiled.

Loki left, and Fandral looked at Jane. “Did I interrupt something?”

Jane smiled, shrugged, and went back to the bar.

.....

“Ya like ‘er, don’cha?” Mary asked Loki as they walked.

“Whom do you mean?”

“Don’ play wit me…I’ve seen it before…”

“Seen what?”

“Ya luv ‘er, eh?”

Loki’s gaze snapped to her. “What?”

“Don’ be ‘fraid, guvna. Plain as day, dat.”

They reached the alley Mary’s door was in. 

“Well, Miss Mary. Have yourself a good night,” he tipped his cap.

And he left for the Ten Bells.

.....

Jane was at the bar, and Fandral was standing next to her. 

“I need to use the outhouse, Fandral,” she said. “If I’m gone a bit, tell Loki I’ll be right back. There tends to be a line.”

“All right, Jane,” but he wasn't really paying attention…he was playing with his mug, thinking about Mary and whether Loki saw her home all right and if he had put her in danger for hanging about too much.

Jane went outside…

“I heard his name was Stark…”

There were a couple of men talking just outside the pub. Why didn’t the Ten Bells have indoor plumbing yet? Most places did…

“Is that right?” came a raspy voice.

Jane hid in the shadow.

“He’s been looking for a brave person to do some…experimental work on corpses.”

Neither of them had cockney accents…but it sounded as though they were both foreign. 

“…and I’m just the fellow.”

Jane was scared. 

“You are something, you know. You think because you’re…”  “I’m what,” he hissed. 

“That you’re desperate…”

There was a thud. “You’re damn right. I’m desperate. And what of it.”

Jane put a hand to her mouth.

“…and Stark is my ticket…” their voices faded.

And Jane was shaking like a leaf…

The killer! There! Not six feet from her!

…and she didn’t see his face..

Jane whirled around. She needed to get back inside…tell Loki. Tell Selvig…

…but she never got the chance, for her mouth was in that instant covered, and no sound escaped…

....

“Well Fandral, I saw her home as you asked,” Loki sat across from him, folding his hands.

“Thank’ee Loki. She was all right, then?”

“As far as I could tell.”

He nodded. “Very good,” he sighed and rubbed his face.

Loki smiled at him. “So, my man. Where is Jane?” he looked around.

“Oh…she went to the outhouse. Told me to tell you she’d be back in a moment.”

His brow furrowed. “How long ago was that?”

“Erm…” and Fandral thought. 

And then his gaze snapped to the door. 

Loki felt his heart sink fast. He paled. He stood, his chair falling behind him…and he went outside to the outhouse…

“Jane!” she’s here she’s here she’s here…”Jane!” he banged on the door to the small wooden structure….

Nothing.

“Jane!” his voice cracked…

Fandral was standing in the doorway, horror struck. 

Loki looked at him, pleading…his hands were shaking. “She’s gone.”


	22. Time is the Longest Distance Between Two Places

A/N: Fairly graphic stuff here. Please be aware. (on the side of gore, not sexual content. Yet.)

.....

Time is the longest distance between two places

Time…

He had none.

He had to find her…now.

It might already be too late…

“Fandral! Search the allies surrounding…I’ll check around here and make my way out,” Loki was shaking violently. He was certain that she was dead. The killer was quick. “Alert whomever you can…”

And he ran to the adjoining yard behind the Ten Bells…nothing.

She’s not dead…

…the street just beyond. Nothing.

She’s not dead…

…the alley across the way. Nothing.

She’s not dead…

…a closed up factory…”Jane! Hello!” Loki’s voice echoed in the vast yawn of steel. Nothing.

He was too late…

Too late. 

He stood there a moment…he felt ill. He was going to be sick…yes…and he turned to the corner where he stood, naked and helpless, and spilled the ale over the corner from his bowels. 

Naked, because his distress was evident enough in his manner…

He slowly stood upright…and the tears formed.

He never told her. Never knew her own heart…

He began to walk, bringing his eyes to the night sky above him. She loved the sky, but she never had the opportunity to really see it, for London’s air was too thick, its lights too bright. 

How odd that this night, he could see the stars without much obstruction.

It might not be. She might not be dead…with newfound resolve he hunched his shoulders and ran anew…

His feet pounded the pavement, and he thought with rapid-fire speed how he should proceed…

The killer had likely abandoned Liz Stride’s body when he heard noise…

“Jane!” he screamed. 

The killer was likely poor…always killed in the open…

“Jane!” his voice echoed.

Alone…lonely places in the dark…away from people…

He needed more help.

There was a group just there, at the end of the road.   “The killer! He has a woman! Help me find her!” he stopped. “Help me, please. Her name is Jane,” Loki grabbed a man’s arm.

“What’s dis?”

“The ripper…I think he has my…” he paused. He wasn't certain that she had been taken by the killer. Best not to take chances. “…friend,” he breathed. “Please…split into pairs…you must help me…”

They looked at one another, hesitated, then nodded. Loki relaxed a touch after frantically looking at them all.

“What’s ‘er name again?”

“Jane. Her name is Jane,” Loki nodded, letting go.

“Loki!” came Fandral’s voice. 

He whipped around after the group dispersed, calling for Jane.

And the clerk approached him, shaking his head, looking pale. 

Loki swallowed, ran his hand through his hair.

“The police know, Loki. I saw Selvig. He’s in a state.”  

“As he should be,” Loki replied. He looked around him, feeling rooted, yet desperate to move. “I need to think clearly…”

The night began to fill with people calling Jane’s name. 

“Come with me…” he said to Fandral. “This isn't his mode of operation,” Loki began, his reason taking command. “Jane wasn't soliciting…and it’s much earlier in the night than he ordinarily works.”

“Is it possible that he doesn’t have her?” Fandral whispered.

“It is…but we are working with the assumption that he has,” Loki continued. “Now…there was absolutely no sound…not uncommon. He might, then, alter the way he behaves given these differences in both who Jane is and the time of night.”

“I’m so sorry, Loki,” he swallowed.

“I cannot think about that now, Fandral.”

“No….”

“Now, he works in the street ordinarily…perhaps we should be looking inside buildings…”

“Loki!” Selvig’s voice came out, he was running in their direction.

Loki sighed and went to him.”Selvig…”

“What happened?” he stopped in front of them.

“Jane is missing,” Loki supplied. “She went to the outhouse at the Ten Bells…that’s the last she was seen.”

“How long ago?” he was frantic.

“Mm…” Loki looked at Fandral. “Ten minutes ago…?”

Selvig’s face fell. “Good god,” and he began to run.

“Check buildings, Selvig!” Loki called.

Loki swallowed. He must keep his head…he had his slight breakdown, and that wasn’t going to keep Jane alive. Because she was alive. 

She had to be…

And for a blink of time, he closed his eyes, and felt her next to him on the settee, close, warm…safe.

He had promised her safety. Ensured it. 

He would not break this promise…if she was in danger, he would find her…He opened his eyes. “Fandral…let’s begin to search the buildings in the immediate area.” 

“Loki…you can tell me to piss off. I know how…”  He turned to him angrily. “Standing here, dwelling on the situation, it won’t do a fucking thing. She is in danger, and I made a promise to her and Dr. Foster that I would ensure her safety. And you are going to help me keep that promise. Now, let’s begin over here…” he pointed to a particular factory. “And we will work together so that I’m not searching for your sorry arse in an hour.”

Fandral nodded. He was responsible for this mess…he was. And now Jane…

He followed Loki into the soot-covered factory and breathed deeply. 

…and the two started their search for Jane Foster.

......

She was cold.

That was her first thought…

Cold, and…ouch…her head hurt. She began to move her head to one side. 

“I wouldn't move too much if I were you,” came a raspy voice.

She froze…and what had happened to her began filling her clouded thoughts…

…she had been at the Ten Bells.

…she had to use the outhouse.

…she had heard voices.

…everything went black.

The killer. 

Her eyes flew open and she attempted to sit up. 

“Oh no, deary. Don't do that.”

She heard movement. He was moving closer to her. 

She couldn't see anything, it was pitch. There was a slice of light fairly far away from her…it appeared to be near the floor.   She was inside…or else immediately outside of a building.

“I thought that it was you, that night in the alley. They thought you were doing the killing. What a laugh.”

She was panicking…he was going to kill her.

“And all the while, the Yard couldn't catch me, but you, a little woman, an apothecary…and your beau…came the closest. Poor Miss Mary…”

She was going to pass out. 

There was something around her mouth, her feet were tied, her hands…she couldn't move. She began to hyperventilate.

“Now now, Miss. Don’t make yourself sick. It’ll be over right quick…”

And then, in the distance, she heard her name. She didn’t recognize the voice, but it was coming nearer.

“What the…?” and she heard him move, heard something being opened…”Fuck.”

And then he came over, closer to her…

…she would never see her father again…

His breath was heavy, and she heard something metal scrape a surface.

…never see Loki…never be able to tell him…and she would die a virgin. There was a hint of regret in that fact, but her sadness was more that she never faced her feelings for him…

And the voice drew nearer. “Jane!” 

“Fucking fools,” he said. “Well…no matter,” he muttered. “I can come back for you. It’s not like you can get anywhere. And right now, I’ve got other more pressing matters…” and he left via a door at the back wall. 

What just happened? Had he really just left her there? 

And she was certain it was the killer…after the things that he had said. 

Jane struggled to think about what she should do. She wasn't in her right mind, she had sustained a head injury. She tried to play with the bindings around her wrists, but they were tight, and at her back, so her attempts were fruitless.

She couldn't just wait for him to come back and kill her. 

She tried to move, not really knowing which way was best…and she landed on her stomach.

This wasn't good. 

Her cheek was pressed against a cold floor…it didn’t feel like cobblestone…she must be inside. 

That was a deviation from the killer’s habit. 

She sighed. She was drooling on the floor, her mouth slightly open from the gag…

…and she couldn't hear her name being called any longer. 

She tried to move again, and she rolled back onto her back…her hands crushed by her weight. 

Jane’s mind drifted a moment…Loki…if she got out of this, she would tell him.

She would tell him that she loved him. Funny how it took a situation wherein she very well might die to say it to herself. 

But she did…and she ached with it.

How foolish she was! She didn’t fault herself for not realizing it, but once she did, she certainly should have told him. Damn the murders and everything else. She should have told him.

Instead, she wasted precious time muddling about, being embarrassed, being upset, overthinking…

Time.

She needed to make herself use it better.

And she set to do just that.

.....

They had been walking, yelling, for nearly two hours, but Loki seemingly had lost no resolve.

“Loki…perhaps we should reconsider what we are doing here. Perhaps we should think about where Jane might have gone…”

“Thank you, Fandral. Your opinion is most welcome.”  

The search team had scoured all of the streets in the vicinity, to no avail. 

“What about her father?”

“What about Dr. Foster?”

“Perhaps he should know. Or perhaps she went home…?”

Loki stopped an looked at him. “By all means, Fandral. Go to her house. I am staying out until I find her.”

“But if she’s at home…”

“Then you may come and tell me,” he knew that she wasn’t. Jane wouldn’t simply leave the Ten Bells and go home without saying anything.

“I’m going. This is a massive waste…”

Loki grabbed his arm, twisted it, and dragged him over to an alley. “Don’t you dare say I’m wasting my time,” he breathed. “Don’t suggest it, even for a moment…”

“Loki…you’re hurting…”

“She could be dead…and I allowed it. She could be a mangled corpse even as we speak, and I allowed it. She could have died, alone, without knowledge of…” he swallowed, dropped Fandral’s arm. “…and it is my fault. I’ll not rest until she is found.”

He nodded. “It’s my fault, Loki. I should have…”

“You’re damn right you should have. But I cannot blame you. I was responsible for Jane. You were concerned about Mary. And that’s that,” he turned and left the alley.

Fandral didn’t respond. “Where does she live?”

And after Loki gave him the address, he nodded and left him there. Loki shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“Loki!” he heard Selvig’s voice.

He turned and saw the detective approaching him, shaking his head. “Nothing. It gives one pause…as in, perhaps she is all right. Ordinarily, the body was found not far from where the victim was last spotted.”

“But where is she Selvig? She has disappeared, utterly.”

“I don’t know, Loki,” he shook his head. “I simply don't know…”

And Loki turned and head hanging, began to walk once more.

Jane had disappeared at eight at night. 

It was now going on ten…

…and he would continue until he was either too exhausted to move or dead himself.

He wrapped his coat closer, and walked some more.

.....

.....“Loki…”

“What is it, dearest?”

“Have I ever told you how much you mean to me?”

“Tell me again…”

And she sat next to him on the fainting couch of the shop, and pulled him close to whisper in his ear. “You are the only thing that matters to me, you are my everything…’ she kissed his neck softly.

“Let’s move to the countryside, Jane. I’m tired of London’s scents.”

“Whatever you like, Loki.”

She wanted to move to the country. She wanted clean air. She wanted Loki. She wanted to tell him that she loved him…

And she wondered when and if the killer would be back…

She was on her side now, and considered her options. Jane sat up and leaned against the wall, trying to discover a sharp stone, or brick, or something. She inched her way along, trying to feel with her exposed hands (quite cold, nearly numb), if there was anything she could cut the bindings with. 

There were more shouts she was able to discern in the distance…but they seemed further away still. They were moving away from her. 

She felt close to tears, but wouldn't give way, and she continued to grasp and inch along the wall. 

It was brick, which was a blessing…stone would have much more challenging. 

In the pitch of her captivity, she couldn't see in front of her at all. Jane kept moving to her right, willing a sharp surface to present itself.

But as she moved, her leg hit some obstruction, and it came crashing down on her legs, pinning her lower body to the floor, smarting her knees painfully.

This was a bad stroke of luck, thought she, her head falling back, hitting the wall softly. And she sighed through her gag.

....

“I thought I told ye before…I ain’t interested in servicin’ ye. We ‘ad dis talk before.”

“Now, Mary…that was one time…”

“One time is all it takes,” she returned.

“And what if I give ya this much…?”

She looked at his palm. “Ha! Well, now ye be talkin’! Let’s…”

“You have a flat, no?”

“Ya…”

“And it’s cold.”

“All righ’…” 

And she led him to her home.

.....

He wasn't paying attention to where he was going. He had long lost track of time…was it midnight? Later?

He figured he should probably head to the Yard. See if Abberline was on the case.

He couldn't bear to see Dr. Foster.

Loki walked into the Yard, and took note of the time…Three forty five. 

Good lord. Where had the night gone?

“Is Detective Abberline here?” he croaked to the man at the desk just inside the entry.

“‘e’s about lookin’ fer a lady. Gone missin’ some time ago,” replied the clerk.

Loki nodded. Good sign. “I thank’ee,” and he turned to leave.

“Yeh know ‘er?”

“Pardon?”

“Da lady…’o’s missin’?”

“Why?” he asked with a furrowed brow.

He laughed. “‘cause it’s four in da mornin’ and ya look like de devil ‘imself.”

“I know her,” and he walked out of the door, onto the street.

“Good luck ta ya!” Loki heard him yell.

He couldn't bother to respond.

She was dead.

And a wave of regret washed over him…he started walking once more, back towards the Market. He wondered if he’d ever be able to return to work. To think, just a five minute walk from Asgard, she was taken from him.

She was dead.

And he went inside of his shop.

How many times had she stood there, greeting him? How often had he longed to go to her, kiss her, tell her how he felt?

How he felt…

All that time, he had been burying it.

He found her mildly interesting.

He found her idly attractive.

She was his friend.

Whom he found attractive.

And now…

“I love you, Jane Foster,” he said to the shop as he sat on the chair she would sit in. “And I’m so sorry that I failed you,” he buried his face in his hands and wept.

......

She must have fallen asleep, no doubt from the shock and pain she was in.

She had barely moved since the thing…whatever it was…had come crashing down on her. And though it hurt, she thought that once more she had escaped any broken bones. There was a mercy…but how…how was she to get out from the pin of the obstruction…? 

And what if the killer returned? Where was he?

She shouldn't think about that…concentrate on getting out. She’d be dead if he returned whether she had attempted to escape or not.

So she began wriggling free of the impediment. Her legs hurt, but the thing wasn't heavy enough to do real damage. 

And as she pulled her legs free, her skirt tore on a splinter of wood, tearing her skin along with it.

She cried out…but then she stopped.

It was wood, and it had broken, causing splintered wood…she could cut her bindings on the wood!

With abandon at her realization, she stole her legs from the furniture, and turned her back to it, so that her bound wrists were against the splintered wood. She began to saw at the bindings…her hands cutting and bleeding from the action…

Jane ignored the intense pain of the movement, trying to concentrate only on the desired result.

After what seemed like hours…after she had broke into a sweat…she felt the bindings begin to give and loosen.

This encouraged her, and she moved faster.   Jane was laying on her side, bleeding and broken, but nearly free.

…and before long, she felt them give, and then snap. 

Her hands were free…

She cried.

And she took her trembling hands and began to pull at the gag. It took but a few minutes.

She laughed.

Jane reached to her ankles and slowly undid the bindings on her ankles.

She was free!

She laughed and cried.

And Jane stood on wobbly legs, and pain surged through her. Maybe she did have a broken bone. 

She put weight on her right leg…it was ok…

Left…ouch. She nearly fell over. 

Blast it, Jane. You might have broken something. 

Her left hand groped at the air until it found the wall, and she held it, moving toward it, and she leaned.

Her breath was heavy. She needed to calm herself…if he came back, she would need to try and fight. 

Jane looked around in the blackness…who was she fooling. She couldn't see a thing.

But she wouldn't be undone by some darkness. Not when she was on the precipice of freedom. She would best this bastard even if it did kill her. 

Jane edged her left foot around the immediate vicinity of her position…keeping her weight on her right …she felt around in the darkness…

…and she kicked a piece of wood.

All right. Pick it up. You can use it for either a weapon or a cane. 

Jane slowly squatted down and lifted the wood…it felt like a table leg. And it was splintered at the end, so it could be used as a weapon. 

What a stroke of luck! 

She smiled, swallowed, tasted blood…it was the first time she was cognizant of that fact…so either she hadn’t noticed, hadn’t swallowed until now, or she was beginning to bleed internally. She seriously doubted the latter…

Good thing she had at least a rudimentary understanding of anatomy and medicine.

All right. She gathered herself, and leaning on the table leg, took a step.

Pain. 

Just get through it…

Another step. 

More pain…

She swallowed. And with resolve, moved toward that slight, slight chink of light on the floor opposite where she had been tied.

She felt around the wall, and lo! a door handle. She smiled and felt the relief wash over her.

Jane opened the door…

…and was blinded.

.....

The bells chiming from London proper announced the hour in Spitalfields. Ten thirty, Loki counted.

He had slept a very little, but was so devastated that he couldn't bear to leave. He had no idea where Fandral was, nor did he care much. He should have opened an hour ago, but it was the Lord Mayor’s Day, a holiday, and he figured no one would care if he didn’t open that day.

Or indeed, ever again.

He was slumped on the floor…leaning against the counter. The light illuminated the dust filling the close air space in the shop. 

Was he breathing? He did not know.

It didn’t matter much if he was or wasn’t. Everything that he cared about was gone…

His head lolled to one side and he blinked.

He was thirsty.

Loki got up from the floor and went to the back water barrel for some drink. 

Mayhap he’d go to his home and dip into his whiskey. He thought that yes. That was called for. 

His shirt was mostly unbuttoned. His hair disheveled. His beard growing ever so slightly in. He looked at himself in the glass…he barely recognized himself.

And Loki finished his water, and started to leave the shop…locked the door.

He walked out into the Square.

It was a bright, sunny day…

.....

Jane squinted against the sunlight, shielding her eyes.

As she adjusted, she took in her surroundings.

It appeared to be an abandoned building…and she was about a floor up from the ground. She looked for a sign of anyone, anything, but nothing was about. 

Jane hobbled to the stairway, and slowly made her descent down the stairs, gingerly walking…her leg smarting…

But she soon decided that it wasn't broken. She was able to allow some weight on it as she crept downstairs.

Would he be back…? It appeared to be day…midmorning, even.

Jane thought that she would need to get outside and out of the place if she had a chance to escape him. What detained him? Why was she left alive? Was he dead, perhaps?

She walked out onto the cobblestone street…and realized that she was a good way from Spitalfields. 

Did the killer carry her there? She looked up at the abandoned building…did he live here?

Jane thought it best to keep moving, so she began to walk…

And thought that a holiday could not have come at a worse time. No one was about to help her.

.....

Loki had not made it far when he heard the screaming.

It came from the direction of Dorset Street, just around the bend from the Market proper.

And he paled. He felt ill. 

But he had to know.

So Loki turned in the direction of the screams, and walked toward Dorset Street…

“Don’ go der! It’s awful!”

“I can’ believe it!”

“Never saw such a sight in me life!”

“O’d do dat ter the poor lady?”

He was quite literally shaking with anguish. He made his way through the crowd. “Pardon me, excuse me, please let me through,” he was saying.

“Der he be! I saw ‘im wit ‘er las’ night!” came a man’s voice.

Loki looked and saw a man pointing at him.

He closed his eyes.

His breath came quick…”Jane…” he whispered, and opening his eyes, began to force his way through the throng. 

People were different…there was a different air about the place. “I need to see…” he repeated. “Excuse me please…” He saw the officers there, and made his way to them. “Pardon me. There was another murder?” he said, trying to keep his composure.

“There was, sir. But ya don’t want to see it…it’s the most horrific thing…”

“I need to…she was my…”

“Mary!” came a screech. “Mary Mary Mary!!” 

Loki craned his neck to see where the scream was coming from. 

Fandral. He was making his way toward the scene.

Loki looked around. Yes…this was where he took Mary last evening.

“No no no no no…” and he saw Fandral disappear…and then a bloodcurdling shriek from inside. 

“Fandral!” yelled Loki. 

“Best leave him be, Loki,” Selvig said next to him.

“What happened?”

“Mary Kelly…it’s nothing like I’ve ever seen. Worst thing I’ve ever…”

Loki’s eyes were open wide. “Mary Kelly? She was murdered?”

“That’s not even half of it, Loki. She was positively ripped apart and mutilated.”

Loki felt faint. “But…where is…?”

.....

Jane was walking back toward the Market. She thought that it was odd that no one was looking for her anymore. Perhaps she should head home…

…no…she should see if she could find Loki first. Then, if he wasn't about, head home. Tell her father to alert Scotland Yard.

She hobbled along, only about another ten minutes from the Market center. She wondered if it would take her an hour.

.....

“Jane Foster? We haven't found her,” Selvig said.

“But…if Mary was…what did you say?”

“Positively mutilated. Half of her face was cut away. Her intestines on the bed, her breasts cut off and placed around her,” he was leading Loki away from the mass. “…pieces of her skin on the bedside table. Loki, I’ve never seen such horror in my life…”  

“Poor Fandral,” his mouth was dry…no, devoid of fluid. “But…” he couldn't understand it. Unless he had killed two women. That wasn't unprecedented. 

Or…perhaps…”Could she be alive?” he breathed.

“I suppose…” Selvig shrugged. “There are a few officers still looking.”

Loki thought that he should feel worse, considering. But he, at that moment, could not feel anything but a flicker of hope. Until and unless Jane was found, he would continue to hope, and feel sick over Mary later.

.....

Jane was in the Market, and was surprised to see it as deserted as it was. Yes, it was technically a holiday, but even on holiday’s, there were some people about.

Just her luck to be injured and escape imminent death the day everyone decided to vacate the place.

It was then that she heard the cries…

…not of distress, but of sadness.

She leaned on her table leg, and with a furrowed brow, began to limp toward the noise.

.....

Loki was speaking with Erik Selvig. They were walking away from the scene of the murder, for though Loki had mentioned perhaps staying behind for Fandral, Selvig said he’d be taken to headquarters and he wouldn't be able to speak much, anyway.

He acquiesced, anxious to start looking for Jane once more.

“Though you were likely one of the last people to see her alive, Loki.”

“That’s true,” he replied.

“However, given the circumstances, I think I can bother you for a statement later on,” Selvig smiled.

But Loki wasn't looking…

…there was a figure, not far down the road, limping, coming toward them.

And it looked remarkably like…

“Jane,” he breathed.

“What’s that?” and Selvig turned to look at what Loki was staring at. “Bless my soul.”

Loki pushed passed him…”Jane!” he yelled.

And then she saw him. And she started to laugh…and tears streamed down her face. “Loki,” she said, to herself really.

Loki broke into a run…he couldn't believe it…she was alive…

Jane wasn't as quick, her injuries limiting her…

…but when he reached her, he picked her up and spun her around…

“Good god Jane Foster,” he said, holding her close. “I thought…”

“Loki…I was terrified I’d never see you again…” she said into his shoulder.

The sun was dripping into the scene, and people had gathered round…the apothecary had been discovered, at least.

“Kiss ‘er!” someone yelled.

Loki laughed and set her down…he cupped her face. “You’re hurt.”

“I can’t feel a thing,” she replied. “I’m sorry Loki…sorry I was so daft to see…”

“What are you talking about?”

“I love you,” she whispered.

His face fell…his heart soared…his hands shook…

…and he leaned down and claimed her mouth in his…

…and on that morning, in the midst of blood and horror, the inhabitants of Whitechapel, through their tears, clapped in Dorset Street. 

For even in the middle of horror and darkness, some love was found.

And it was beautiful.


	23. Love is a Tender Thing

Love is a A Tender Thing

Fandral was sitting in Mary’s room, shaking. He had just emptied his stomach of what little content there was remaining…the smell being unlike anything he had ever experienced.

Putrid. Sickly sweet…rank.

He was staring at the floor in front of the bed where she lay.

Well, where part of her lay…the rest of her was on the bedside table.

He had done this. He left her…he knew…

Fandral’s eyes closed and he swallowed.

“Mr. Adamson?”

Nothing.

The officer cleared his throat. 

Fandral looked up, and the officer sat next to him.

“Mr. Adamson? You knew the deceased?”

He nodded.

“And when was the last time you saw her alive?”

“Last evening. Around…just before eight.”

He nodded, marking things down.

“I could have stopped this. I could have…I knew…”

“Knew what?”

Fandral now looked at Mary…”I knew that someone was looking for her.”

“How?”

“How?” he looked at the officer. “My stepfather knows Anthony Stark.”

....

Loki was sitting next to Jane, holding her hand firmly. He wasn't looking at her. They were sitting on the steps of the building right across the street from 13 Miller’s court, Mary’s house, on Dorset Street. 

After the very public embrace on said street, Loki became self conscious and pulled Jane out of the immediate area. The applause died down, and the somber mood emerged once more. 

He hadn’t spoken to her, just held her hand.

For ten minutes.

“Loki?” Jane said, breaking the silence.

“Yes?”

“What are you thinking about?”

He sighed and sat back. “Too many things to name.”

“Try,” she smiled, looking over…he still wasn't looking at her…

“I’m thinking that I should feel awful for poor Mary and for Fandral…no. That’s not right. I should feel worse…but all I can think is that you’re safe. You’re safe, when I was convinced you weren’t,” he paused. “You’ll need to make a statement…” he looked at her. “Jane. I haven't even asked you…were you taken by…?”

“I was.”

He had been in shock…he must have been. He didn’t even bother to ask what had happened. “And…?” all sorts of horrors emerged. “Hang on. Allow me to get an officer.” Loki stood, took her with him (he wasn't letting go)…and she limped alongside him as he found one. “Officer…Jane Foster here needs to make a statement. She was taken by the killer.”

And with that, Jane was descended upon by several officers, being asked questions…

Loki never let go of her hand.

It was starting to hurt. 

“No…I never saw his face…" she was telling the officers. "His voice sounded foreign…I can take you to the abandoned factory now…” a horse and buggy emerged moments later. “Yes…I think that he was about to kill me…I think I broke a table and with the splintered wood, set myself free…he hit me over the head…no…he didn’t mention Mary Kelly. Only the ‘From Hell’ letter. He claimed not to write the ‘Ripper’ letters…he seemed smug…” she went on and on, and they drove to the factory where he had held her.

Jane was nervous going in. Loki was next to her (still grasping her hand), and he followed along beside her, helping her with her limp. The factory was well away from Spitalfields, but still in Whitechapel proper…it had been abandoned a few years previous.

They walked to the second floor, and Jane showed them the open door to the room where she had been prisoner. She didn’t want to go in first.

The officers went in, and she noticed, looking around, just what sort of place it was…there was holes in the floors, it was freezing…the walls were rotting…it stunk, but not horrifically… more like mold. It was painfully dark, despite the time of day. 

And in a far corner was a makeshift bed, a burned candle…the remnants of the table in a heap in the middle of the floor. 

There was a hearth, and newspapers in it…

That was all.

It didn’t appear that he had come back.

Jane was standing there, looking around. It seemed to her that during her captivity, the room was much bigger…but seeing it now, it was perhaps ten by ten. It looked as though it had been someone who worked at the factory’s office. 

She was leaning against the wall, Loki was standing next to her, holding her hand. An officer approached them once more.

“And what injuries did you sustain, besides your head?”

Jane went to take her hand from Loki.

He wouldn’t yield.

But he remained silent.

Jane sighed. “Er…well…” she rolled her eyes. “Loki?”

Nothing.

She shook her head, and with her free right hand, showed him the gash on her left leg and the many scrapes on her wrist from the bindings and the wood that set her free.

“I see that the gag left some marks, too,” the officer looked at her face.

Loki glared at him. “I think that Miss Foster has answered enough questions. Has her father been alerted to her safety and condition?”

“I don’t…”

“Well, I suggest that you make use of yourself and tell the poor man. He is likely preparing her funeral.”

  “Loki! Don’t say that!” she heaved.

He squeezed her hand. “Are we free to go?”

The officer looked at him, then at his superior. “Can they go now, sir?”

“Yes,” and Abberline came over to them. “Where will you be if we need to ask further questions?”

Loki gave him his address, and Jane shot him a glance.

They left.

“We are going to your house?”

“Yes. It’s the only safe place, I imagine,” he replied. 

Jane nodded. “All right,” and all sorts of ideas filled her head…

Not the least of which…Loki hadn’t responded verbally to her declaration of love.

.....

Fandral watched as Mary’s body was taken away.

Her insides were exposed…her face hacked away…the lips he had kissed so many times, ripped open. She had been dissected.

Like an animal.

Every missed opportunity was glaring at him painfully as he saw them cover her. He should have proposed. Should have made her move in with him. Should have stayed with her…

And tears began to form in his eyes. 

“Mary…” he choked. “I’m sorry.”

And he wept utterly. He wept at his loss…at her life…at the violence her body, which he had worshipped, suffered…he wept because he had never told her that he loved her. And now she would never know.

“Fandral?” came a voice next to him.

He looked up through his tears. 

Selvig.

“I thought that you ought to know. Her heart, they think, is missing.”

He covered his face with his hands, cried out, and then hugged Selvig, hanging on him, desperate for comfort…

Though he wouldn't find it, any time soon.

....

“Can you make it a few blocks?” he asked her.

“Yes,” Jane replied.

“Are you certain?” 

“Look at me, Loki. You haven't looked at me at all…” 

He stopped, and he turned toward her. 

“All right. That’s a start,” she smiled. He still wasn't looking. Jane sighed loudly, and wrenched her hand from his grasp. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.”

“No you’re not.”

Now he looked, and she saw how sad his eyes were….”Come home with me Jane.”

She searched his face…and she nodded. 

And he took her hand once more and led her to a side street, a gradual incline of the road presented; Jane hobbled along, and twenty minutes later, they turned a bend.

Another long street. She sighed loudly.

“Not far now,” he said.

They were nearly at the end of a dead end when he guided her to her right, and up about seven stairs to his house.

She was exhausted, and she leaned against the door jam as he fiddled with the keys. He opened the door, and helped her inside. “Sit,” he said, and lighted a lamp.

It was only one o’clock in the afternoon, but having hardly slept, and sustaining injuries, and being frightened out of her wits, Jane was fatigued in a way she had never known. She hardly took notice of the rooms as she slumped into a largish chair by the hearth. 

Loki left a moment, and returned with a bucket of water, some salve, a towel, tweezers, and some gauze-like wrappings. 

He started a fire, for though the room was warm enough, there was a decided chill about the place. 

And he knelt before her, and lifted her skirts to the knee. “I’m going to remove your stocking, Jane,” he said without looking at her. “It might hurt a touch.”

She nodded, frustrated that he still wouldn't look at her, but anxious about pain nonetheless. 

And he reached up her thigh, Jane sliding down a bit, and he slowly began to roll the stocking off of her left leg, careful to mind the wound.

Loki took the towel dipped it in the water, and washed it out a bit. She winced.

Then he placed Jane’s foot on a stool, situated himself so that he had ample access, and took the tweezers in hand. 

Painfully slow, he took out bits of wood from her leg. “It’s not as bad as I thought…” he said, eyes on her leg. “But it’s deep, which is why it hurts.”

Jane was gripping the chair arms tightly…it did hurt. She bit her lip through the pain of it…willing herself to try and feel anything but the tweezers entering her flesh.

“There,” Loki said after about twenty minutes work. He rubbed some salve on it, then ripped the gauze with his teeth, and wrapped her shin with it. He rubbed his hands on his pants…”Let’s see your wrists,” and he sat up, moving toward her.

Jane swallowed. She pushed her sleeves up, and exposed her wrists.

Loki gasped. “Oh, Jane…”

She hadn’t looked at them properly, but following his stare, she looked…

There was a lot of blood. She might have come dangerously close to opening an artery. A large chunk of wood was in her left wrist…and some tissue was exposed. Her right wasn't nearly as bad, but there were tinier splinters all along her wrist, and a good deal of bruising. 

Funny she didn’t notice just how bad it was until then…she had hardly felt the pain. 

Jane swallowed. “Might I have some water?”

He nodded. “Yes of course,” he left a moment. 

Jane sat there…she wouldn't look at her wrists…

And he returned, handed her the water, and had some for himself. He sat at her feet again. 

“Loki…”

“Hush, Jane…after I’ve tended to your injuries…we can talk,” and he leaned up toward her, and took her left hand in his delicately. He got the tweezers…

She clamped her eyes shut…her breath became quick. 

She heard his breath as well…he was nervous. This didn’t help ease her mind. 

And then she felt him tug. She tensed.

“I’ll just take it out with a quick movement…on three…one…”

...She was safe she wasn't dead.

“Two…”

...Loki was with her. He was seeing to all of her needs.

“Three.”

And the plain surged through her arm…she shrieked.

“Oh god,” he said and her eyes flew open. 

 There was blood everywhere. She began to sob. 

“Jane…hang on…” he placed the towel on her wrist. “Press this against it,” and he grabbed the gauze. “We need to stop the bleeding…” and he started at her hand, between her thumb and forefinger, and wrapped it tightly. “When I reach the wound, move the towel,” and he made his way up her arm…

As soon as she removed the towel, blood spurted out, covering Loki’s hands, her clothes…but the gauze soon did its job, and the bleeding was contained. 

“Removing it was like removing a dam,” she observed. It hurt badly. 

“Yes,” and he pinned the gauze. “Let’s wait on that one,” and he smiled at her a touch. He sighed, and took her right hand. “This one isn't as bad.” Loki worked tediously on the wound, small splinters were peppered throughout her wrist from the rubbing. He got up and retrieved another towel. He wetted it down, cleaned the wound, applied the salve, then wrapped that one. “I’ll wait until your left wrist stops bleeding so profusely. We need to get the splinters out before it begins to close,” and he gathered the things, and took them away.

Jane’s head fell back in the chair. She sighed. Everything hurt…

And Loki returned with two glasses of port, and handed her one. “Drink this,” he said. 

“I’m a mess,” Jane observed, downing the drink.

Loki drank the whole of his, and looked at her. “As am I.”

“Well…what should we do?”

“Bathe,” he replied. “But first, more port,” and he took her glass, and his, and went to refill.

What on earth was going on?! Jane was at a loss. Though now she was determined to get him to talk. “Loki,” as he entered the room once more. “What is going on.”

“On?” he handed her the wine.

“Yes. On. You have barely spoke since…” she paused. “Well. Since…”

“I’ll fix you some water,” he said abruptly and left her there. 

Infuriating man.

Loki returned a few minutes later, and went to Jane, helping her up. “While you wash, I’ll fix something to eat. I have some bread from yesterday’s market…”

Jane smiled. “I thank’ee…where is the washroom?”

“Just over…” he pointed. “Do you need further help?”

“No. I’m fine,” and she left. 

Jane went to the back room, closed the door, and took her clothes off gingerly. She placed the rag in the soapy water, and cleaned her body…she took her hair out of its bun and dunked her head in the water. She scrubbed her head…it felt glorious. 

As she took her hair out and dried it, there was a knock at the door. “Jane…I have some clothes for you just outside here. They are…erm…mine. I haven’t any ladies’ clothing…”

Jane laughed. “Thank’ee, Loki. I’m certain they’re fine.”

She wrapped herself with the towel and went to retrieve the clothes. 

It felt odd wearing men’s clothing.   Even more odd that it was Loki’s. 

But she smiled…it smelled like him. Though the trousers were quite long…they all hung off of her a bit…and she attempted to tighten everything as best she could.

Jane hobbled out after she was finished, and went to the dining room, where cold meats, bread, cheese…all were out on the table. 

Loki entered with more port. “Sit down, please.”

She did.  

“Feel better?” he smiled, pouring some for her.

“A bit.”

He glanced at her, furrowed brow. “What do you need?”

I need you to talk to me, Loki. “Nothing. Are you going to wash?” he looked pretty bad himself…and now he had her blood all over him.

“Yes. Start without me,” and he quickly walked away.

Jane watched him leave, then began to pick at the food on the table.

She couldn't recall when last she had eaten.

The entire time she had spent in that factory was a blur…her mind in rational mode, she hadn’t any time to really consider what had actually happened to her.

She was very nearly killed.

Her hands began to tremble…and she took the port and downed it all. 

Tears pooled in her eyes…it was the thought of Loki…of telling him that she loved him, which sustained her and compelled her to act. She rather thought that had she not reached that conclusion, she may have succumbed to despair. 

But he, apparently, did not care. He hardly would look at her!

No…that wasn't right, either, she thought, taking another bite of the bread and cheese. He was positively waiting on her. 

Loki emerged dressed and drying his long black locks. He smiled at her. 

And the bell rang.

“Blast,” he began. “Although…that might be Selvig.”

Loki went to the door and opened it.

Indeed. There was Erik Selvig. “Afternoon, Loki,” he glanced at him uncertainly. “Am I…interrupting?”

“Not at all,” he stepped aside.

Erik walked in, and spotted Jane sitting at the table. “Ah, Miss Foster! You are a sight for sore eyes!”

Jane smiled, stood, and wobbled.   Erik went over to her and took her hands. “I heard that you were hurt.”

“A bit.”

“You are a brave lass,” he said. 

“Not really,” she blushed.

“Have some port, Selvig. I daresay we could all use some,” he handed him a glass. “How is Fandral?”

“He’s….” he downed the drink. “Not well.”

“No.”

“In fact, we are keeping him at the Yard for observation.”

“Indeed? Can Scotland Yard do that?”

“In circumstances such as these, yes.”

Jane sat down once more. “Poor Fandral.”

Loki let a small breath. “I’ll take care of him.”

Her eyes snapped to his. “How?”

“He will never want for anything, Jane. You and he are my closest, dearest friends. I won’t see him suffer,” he smiled at her, then looked at Selvig. “I have the means, what’s more.”

“I know it,” and Erik tipped his glass.

“Are you rich, Loki?” Jane asked uncertainly.

He struck a rueful grin. “A bit.”

And now she looked around. 

There was thick dark wood everywhere…some marble…stained glass…there was indoor plumbing…lush furnishings…some art…

She was registering what she saw…”You are aren’t you…? Where are we?”

“Bethnal Green.”

“Bethnal…?” she began. “But…that’s only a mile from…”

“Yes…but that really means little, Jane. I told you. The Odinson’s are quite wealthy. And I’m not even their favorite son…”

“My god,” she whispered, looking around.

Erik cleared his throat. “So, I’ve told your father that you’re all right. And that he should expect you later.”

“Later?” she said, not really comprehending. 

“Well, I expect that there are things needing tended to…your injuries…other…”

“Thank you Selvig. You are so efficient and can always take a hint…” Loki began guiding Erik to the door. “Do please tell Dr. Foster that I’ve cleaned and dressed her wounds, none are terribly serious, and she has cleaned herself up, ate a bit…I’ll send a messenger for his things later.”

“His things?” Erik asked confusedly at the door. 

“That’s right. He isn't safe, either.”

“Oh, that’s mighty kind of ya, Loki. I’ll tell him,” he smiled. “Afternoon, Miss Foster.”

Jane smiled. 

And Loki locked the door behind him. He sighed, pressed his palms to the door, then turned. 

She was positively overcome, but watched his every move. He came over to her, sat across from her at the table, and picked up some bread. 

“Stale,” he observed.

“Loki.”

“Hm?”

“Would you please, for the love of god, talk to me?”

He swallowed, and gave her a very deliberate look. “How is your wrist?”

“I don’t care about my fucking wrist!” she exclaimed. “I care about what you are thinking! Feeling! What is going on in that head of yours!”

He sighed. “I’m sorry Jane, I don’t mean to be…”

“An arse?”

He smiled. “Though I am shocked at your language.”

Jane folded her arms in front of her, and lifted her eyebrows. 

He cleared his throat and poured more wine for them both. “I understand your anger. However, you must permit me to gather myself. I spent the whole of the night believing you to be dead…I scoured the streets for you…and now…you are here. And I can scarce believe it,” he looked at her with wet eyes and his voice cracked a touch. “I had promised you, most ardently, that I would protect you, and I failed. So now, I aim to set it to right.”

“By dressing my wounds and feeding me?”

“And having your father stay, yes.”

“That’s very kind, Loki.”

“But…?”

“But you haven’t responded to what I most care about. I do not think that you realize what I went through, how I escaped, nor what prompted me to attempt it.”

“Tell me.”

She sighed. “Loki…I discovered, in that tiny, black room, that I was in love with you. And I escaped so that I might tell you such…”

His face fell as he stared at her. “It did happen, then?” his face was blank.

“Excuse me?”

“I…I rather thought…I imagined it. Everything was such a blur…” he paused, and covered his face with his hands…”Did you really say it?”

“You fancied that you imagined that I told you that I was in love with you?”

His hands fell, and he blinked and nodded. “And I…I’ve just felt so guilty…I couldn't bear to speak with you,” his gaze fell.

“Oh, Loki,” she smiled. “It isn't your fault.”

“It is, Jane. Do not attempt to placate me.”

She shrugged. “If you prefer.”

Loki swallowed…”For some time now…too long, I should think…I have admired you above all others,” he smiled. “Fandral caught on quite quickly…but I dismissed it and told him he was ridiculous…but then, it became more obvious, and I silenced him with an admission that I found you to be attractive,” he looked at the ceiling. “And so it was, I would tease you, and you bore it well. I would bother you…but only, really, just to be near you,” he dropped his gaze and swallowed. “When you came to me with this assignment, I felt compelled to stop you. Then thought of your stubborn nature, and decided to humor you. Little did I know how you’d effect me. How I’d be moved…” he looked at her hesitantly. “For I’ve never loved as I love you, Jane. You are my dearest friend. And I sincerely believe that I would die without you.”

She was crying. 

“Don’t cry, Jane…” he moved so that he was sitting next to her, and he took her hands delicately. “Please, I cannot bear to see you cry…” he took his finger and softly touched her cheek, taking the tears away. “Your face is injured.” He got up and retrieved the salve, and went back to sit next to her. Gently he smoothed the medicine on…

And Jane watched his face as his fingers caressed her jaw, the immediate area around her mouth…she swallowed. “Tell me,” she whispered.

He stopped and looked at her steadily. “I love you,” he breathed. “More than anything.”

Jane smiled, hesitated for a moment…then leaned over, and took his lips in hers.

And Loki deepened it quickly…wrapped his right hand behind her neck…and their kisses were many, and there were hesitant fingers, for she was hurt, he then hesitant, and Jane untrained…”Tell me what to do, Loki…” she said, pulling away.

…and he dragged his lips down her neck, and pulled her closer. He stopped a moment, and took her face in his hands. “You mean…?”

She stared at him, raised her eyebrows…

“Oh, Jane, are you sure? You’re hurt, and…”

“And what?”

“Well…” he pulled further back. “You are…a virgin, and I wouldn't want to compromise…”

Jane rolled her eyes, which she took note of, and smiled. Some things never do change. “Do you or do you not want to do this? For god’s sake, I’m in your clothes.”

He acquiesced her observation with a cock of his head. “You make a compelling argument…” 

“Let’s go to bed. It’ll be more comfortable,” and she stood.

Was this truly happening…? Was Jane Foster alive, in love with him, and ready to go to bed with him? How was this possible?

He rose, in a haze, and led her to his bedroom. 

Jane hobbled over to the bed and sat down on it, a bit nervous, but otherwise curious. It probably wasn't the wisest thing to have intercourse immediately following a head injury. But she had learned that life is fleeting. And she loved Loki. And now, she was going to experience love in the most intimate way possible.

She didn’t give a toss about virtue.

He was looking at her with purpose. She was almost afraid. “Lo…”

“Shhh…” he said in a hush, and went over to her. He sat next to her on the bed. He turned her torso to face him, and began to unbutton his shirt. How very odd, and he smiled. 

Loki pulled the shirt off of her, exposing her breasts and torso…he tossed the shirt to the floor. He then took her hips in his hands, and guided her to standing…he undid the knot at her waist, and pulled her (his) pants down to a puddle around her feet. 

Jane stepped out of them, but covered herself a bit with her hands from embarrassment. 

He lightly touched her hips, rubbed her bottom, then his hands made their way up her body, and he removed her own hands…her stomach, her breasts…

He stood.

“You have your clothes on,” she observed.

“It’s fortunate that I love you for your mind,” he smirked. 

“Well, now, I know that I have no experience with this, but as I understand it, you are supposed to be naked, too.” 

“Undress me, then.”

“I’ve never undressed a man,” she said with uncertainty…

“Neither have I. But I did it anyway,” he smiled.

She glared at him, but smiled. And she reached up and began to undo his shirt…

And down it went, revealing his chest and stomach…Jane swallowed. Then she looked at his pants…

She blushed, but took them down and they fell to the floor. “You…you are going to put that inside of me?”

“That’s the general idea.”

“But…” she looked up at him, tearing her eyes from his arousal. “I’ve never seen an erect penis before.”

Loki cocked a brow. “That’s…good?”

“It’s a bit shocking…” she looked once more.

“You do know how to massage a man’s ego, Jane,” and he took her arms and turning her around, eased her back onto the bed. “Tell me where it hurts,” he was kneeling at her feet, she was laying back, propped up on her shoulders.

“Well…everywhere…”

“This really won’t work if I can’t touch you anywhere.”

She smiled. “Mostly my left arm where…”

He nodded, then loomed over her, Jane sinking back into the bed. He kissed her mouth softly, then made his way down. He claimed her breast, and Jane arched her back. 

That was a sensation she had never felt…

“Over such time we have dawdled…over such moons and maze…” he whispered.

He came back up to her mouth. “This will hurt a bit.”

She nodded.

“If you tel me to stop, I will.”

She nodded again, worried her lip.

“At any point, Jane …if you tell me to stop…”

“Loki! Just do it.”

He situated himself between her legs, and eased his arousal in slowly…her breath hitched.   “Relax, Jane…it’ll be better if you relax…”

“I can’t…” she breathed.

And he pulled away. “Does it hurt?”

“A little,” she admitted.

“Do you want for me to stop?”

“No,” and she looked at him.

He furrowed his brow…”Hang on,” and he got up and went to his dresser, procuring something from inside the drawers. He retuned. “This will help,” he had a bottle, and he opened her legs, and pouring some fluid from the bottle onto his fingers, he applied some to her sex. 

“What’s that?”  

“Oils. It will help,” he closed it up, then sat next to her. “Unless you want to stop…”

“Do you not want to do this?”

“What sort of question is that?”

“You keep asking me…”

“This needs to be utterly consensual, Jane,” he was firm. “I am no monster.”

She nodded, and took a breath. “All right.”

He smiled, and crawled back over to her…he adjusted himself so that he was ready to enter her once more. “Ready?”

“Mmhm,” she choked.

He entered slowly…

….and it wasn't as uncomfortable. 

“Are you all right?” he whispered in her ear.

She swallowed. “Yes.”

And then, with force, he thrust himself inside of her…

She squealed.

“Still fine?” he breathed.

“Yes,” she felt the stretch and the break of her sex.

And he began to move…

…and it hurt, but it wasn't awful…and she thought…I’m having intercourse with Loki…

His movement was deliberate and fluid…”I’ll be quick,” he promised, for he felt her tensing.

And he came. 

He kissed her softly. 

“Everything all right?” he pulled out of her.

“That was it?”

His brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“That was sex?” she was joking with him.

“You know, Jane Foster…you are fortunate that I am a gentleman and love you dearly, for had you been anyone else, I likely would at the very least, thrown them from my chambers,” he gathered up the blankets from the bottom of his bed and covered them both.

“I love you, Loki,” she said, laying across his chest.

“And I you, Jane. But you must prepare yourself to be ravished once you’ve healed. I’ll not suffer your ridicule for long. I was being gentle given your state and your virginity.”

“That’s love,” said she.

“Indeed,” he returned.

And he pulled her into an embrace on her side, and they both fell into welcome sleep.


	24. Exploration and Revelation

Exploration and Revelation 

Warmth…

He moved closer to the source, and felt a soft presence…

Loki opened his eyes a touch.

And there was Jane. Her back facing him, naked, breathing softly. 

His left arm was wrapped around her waist, his leg draped over hers. And he smiled. How fortunate he was! He was spooning her, holding her close, shielding her from the terror lurking outside. 

And he winced at the thought…he moved his leg slowly from her. 

The killer remained at large, and he knew who Jane was. 

Loki swallowed his fear. He would be strong for her and her father. He wouldn't leave, nor would he allow them to leave, until Jane was healed. And then he would likely go to work with her; he may never let her out of his sight again.

He was fine with that.

Though she may not be.

Loki rolled onto his back after gingerly taking himself off of Jane, and thought about everything that had transpired, since he had been too numb to think clearly…

Jane had been taken from the Ten Bells.

She had been brought to an abandoned building, tied and gagged.

She escaped after some time, injuring herself in the process.

At some point, Mary Kelly was brutally murdered.

Jane found him, told him that she loved him.

He took her home, tended to her needs, then confessed his own love…

…and they had intercourse.

He looked over at her. He wondered silently whether she had enjoyed it…she had seemed to be so certain, but then she was nervous. And that prompted him to be delicate. 

He had exercised restraint because he didn’t want to further harm her physically, nor did he wish to injure her delicate sensibilities following a psychological trauma…

Trauma.

She had suffered a head injury…

He sat up straight.

And he turned toward her…”Jane,” he hissed, touching her arm. 

She moved, a smile on her face. 

“Jane?” he leaned over closer…

“Mm…” she stretched a bit. “Loki…?”

He relaxed. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m…” and then she felt her wrists, her leg…the back of her head…she sat up a bit. “Where am I?”

He sat back next to her, against the headboard. “My bedroom.”

Her eyes flew open…she looked around, took note of her nudity, pulled the covers up…blushed deeply…turned and saw Loki, next to her, naked…her eyes travelled down…then her gaze snapped back up and she moved a touch away from him, sat up, and leaned against the headboard herself. She put a smile on her face. “Oh.”

A playful smirk was on his own face. “Well well. Is your memory intact?”

Jane swallowed. She nodded, the memories of all which had transpired a few hours ago flooding her mind. “Erm…”

“You needn’t be embarrassed Jane.”

“No.”

He smiled a bit more genuinely at her, and pulled the blanket over himself. Perhaps she would be easier if he was covered. “What are you thinking?”

“Ah, well…I was thinking that I had rather thrown myself at you,” she offered a crooked, shy smile. “I’m sorry.”

He turned on his side, scooted down a bit, and rested his cheek in his hand…he was eye level with her covered breasts…”Oh Jane…don’t you know that it’s every man’s dream to be desired by the person he loves?”

“It’s every woman’s, too,” she replied, watching him pull the blanket down and exposing her chest.

And he smiled, and took her nipple in his mouth. 

And Jane’s head went back, her left hand went to his hair…though she couldn't grab it, make a fist…it hurt too much…

Her lips were slightly parted, and her breath became heavier.

Loki took his mouth away, and started down her torso, kissing, touching, licking her skin with abandon. 

He pulled Jane down so that she was lying on her back now…

And he parted her legs…and situated himself between them.

Loki looked up at her, her head was thrown back, her spine arched; he moved his hands down to her hips to hold her steadily in place.

He kissed her abdomen, and dropped lower…

As soon as he reached her center, Jane’s head shot up…

What was he doing…

He was kissing her sex, sucking on…

She cried out…

Loki mumbled…she cried again. She felt as though every cell in her body was trembling, fit to burst. Jane grabbed the blanket, but it hurt her wrists…and his hands grasped her hips harder.

“Stop,” she breathed.

His tongue was dancing inside of her…

“Stop,” she said louder.

And he heard her this time…He quickly moved away. “Jane? What’s wrong?” he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What are you doing?” she choked, her face contorted…her breath heavy.

“Pardon?” he was confused.

“What is that that you’re doing?”

He swallowed. “Ah…I believe the term is ‘cunnilingus’?”

She was staring wide eyed at him. “I…”

“Was I hurting you?”

She shook her head.

“Was it unpleasant?” it had been some time, perhaps his technique was off, or perhaps it needed to be modified for Jane.

“You’ve done that before, I take it?” her voice was very soft.

He sat now, next to her legs. He placed a hand on her ankle…there were small bruises on both of her ankles, he took note. He would positively end the man who had done this to her. “I have, yes. A few times.”

Jane nodded. 

“Are you jealous?” he looked at her sincerely.

“No,” she quickly replied. “No…I just didn’t know that such a thing…I had never heard…” she blushed and dropped her eyes, smiling her embarrassment.

Loki bent his knee to look at her more fully. “What has been your experience with sex, Jane?”

“Ah…” she covered herself. “Well…a few years ago, I had gone on a few dates with this man. He was a student at the University. I was a touch older than him, but he was very nice.”

Loki nodded. 

“And, well…I think that he was, to my dismay, a virgin…we were at dinner one night, and on the way home, he took me into an alley…started kissing me, had me against a wall…lifted me up so that my legs were wound around him…”

Loki shifted with discomfort at the visual.

“He…he was aroused, and I felt it. He sort of, ground himself against me…and I responded…but I think that he orgasmed, because he was suddenly nervous, confused, and rather angry. He left me there to walk home alone,” she finished.

“Is that all?” he asked her softly.

“Well, no. I’ve been in a number of heated embraces…nothing of real consequence.”

“I see.”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” he smiled. 

“I’m so embarrassed…I had no idea that…whatever that was…existed…”

He laughed. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes,” she sheepishly replied. “Bit too much, I think.”

“Oh Jane…” and he took the blanket from her, and got back into the position. “When it comes to intercourse, there really isn't such a thing as enjoying it too much…” he moved her legs so that they rested on his shoulders. “Allow me to demonstrate…”

And he dove in. 

She moaned audibly, and he moved faster…His hands went back to her hips, and he moved her in time to his mouth…

She was being devoured…savored…

And she loved it.

She was being siphoned…her whole self…and she felt the fabric of her being slowly tearing with each cell…she was going to explode…

And just as she felt it, he stopped..

And Loki moved away, his fingers inside of her…he picked up her hips and guided her to his arousal, sliding easily within her…her ass rested on his thighs. “Are you uncomfortable?” he asked, heavy with desire.

Jane could hardly answer…she shook her head…

And he began to move his hips, and she felt him inside, deep…his fingers massaging her sex all the while…

His left hand was palm down on the bed, he was looming over her…”So symphonic your sound, Jane…I feel your every flutter…and the dance is unlike anything I’ve felt…”

She was going to rupture…she felt it…she could not contain it any longer…and she cried and spilt herself over his fingers…

And Loki followed. 

She relaxed, he fell to her side. 

“How was that?” he asked softly.

She was heaving, sweaty, and barely conscious of what was happening. “I think it was good.”

“You, Jane, are impossible.”

“You love it,” and she smiled.

.....

Fandral was sitting alone in a smallish room in Scotland yard. Lord Durlish, his step father, had appeared an hour previous, but Fandral remained silent, unwilling to speak with the man. He rather loathed him.

And all the more now, considering.

Lord Durlish, it was not well known, had a penchant for oddities. He was known to subject his pretty wife to odd sexual exploits, often hiring others, men, women, to join them in their orgies. Lady Durlish, a proper lady, was reluctant to partake, but for the sake of her roof, obliged. 

Fandral hoped to god they wouldn't bring his mother to the Yard. It would be too much to bear. 

He kept the fact that Wesley Durlish had a morbid curiosity with the human form. He stayed silent when he discovered that he was speaking with Anthony Stark of Philadelphia about human organs.

He hadn’t really put the two together…

Until he heard about the foreign man asking about Mary.

He knew that Mary consorted with all sorts of riffraff. He knew that she had broken more than one heart, and he knew that many of those broken hearts were also very poor.

Bad mix, that.

He hadn’t any proof, so he stayed silent.

He wanted to protect his mother, so he stayed silent.

And now Mary was dead, and she was heartless (he believed that was no coincidence), and he was alone.

He could probably fade into obscurity…perhaps go to Scotland or something. Start afresh. Demand money from Durilsh in exchange for his silence…but then, he was no better than that prat.

His head was on the wall behind him. He was waiting, though he knew not what for. Reprieve for his bleeding heart, perhaps.

But none would come, and the constant drip of water ticked the time for him in the cold stone room of his captivity.

“Fandral?” 

He looked up to see Selvig there. “Hello, Erik. Won’t you come in? I’m sorry…haven’t had the chance to tidy up.”  Erik came in and sat on the chair across from him. “Have you eaten?”

“I can’t.”

He nodded. “I’ve seen Loki and Jane.”

“She’s all right?” he felt awful…he had forgotten all about her.

“She’s hurt, but Loki is taking care of her.”

“Is he really?” he said with a smirk.

“I believe so, the cad.”

Fandral laughed. “I am glad for it. He loves her.”

Erik nodded. “You haven't given a proper statement. I rather thought, for a friend, you might…” he eyed him hopefully.

“A friend,” he swallowed.

Erik leaned his elbows on his knees. “Tell me what you know, Fandral. I believe there is much to your story.”

He shrugged. “There is and there isn’t,” he rubbed his face with his hands. “My step father, Lord Durlish, he is…” he paused. “The very worst of men. We do not get along,” he swallowed. “But he supplies my mother with a lovely house, food…and me. I pay for very little. So I say just as much.”

Erik was rapt. “Go on.”

“He…is well connected. He indulges his whims…and he knows many useful people. One of them is Mister Anthony Stark, a scientist in Philadelphia. One night, some time ago…I overheard Wesley, my step father, speaking to Mr. Stark. They were talking about various experiments being done in America concerning the human body and its organs. Wesley seemed interested, and thought that he could network and see if he could find a way for Stark to obtain these parts,” he paused. “I don't think that he had much luck…he spread the word, but I honestly believe that nothing came of it, at least that he was aware of,” Fandral sighed. “I believe what happened was, people began to talk. They thought that there was a great reward or some nonsense. But I never…I never thought that anything would come of any of it…I had no idea, not until much later, that there was a connection…but by then, I was fearful for my mother…terrified for Mary, for a foreigner was apparently tailing her.”

“A foreigner?”

“Yes. Loki had tipped me off…at first I dismissed it, but then I noticed that Mary was behaving oddly. Wanting me to walk her home and such. Almost as though she sensed something was wrong,” he sighed, covered his face…then sat up straight. “I honestly didn’t connect the two until very recently….and even then, I wasn't convinced.”

“What happened this morning?”

“I had been walking. Looking for Jane. I went home to my mother’s house…Wesley had threatened to leave her once more, and I was comforting her,” he swallowed. “No one treats women right, Erik. Why can’t men just love a woman and be done with it?”

“It happens, Fandral…” he replied sadly. “Occasionally.”

“I loved Mary,” he breathed, lost in thought. And then, “I was making my way to her house to check on her as I often do…I had fallen asleep with my mother…and thinking about Loki, left in a rush. It was then that I saw the crowds…”

“So, you don't know who committed these murders?”

“I wish I did. I’d kill him,” he spat.

Erik nodded. “I’m so sorry, Fandral. But before you do anything rash, I suggest you go to Loki. He mentioned wanting to help you.”

“Help me?” tears had begun to spill.

“He said so this very day.”

“What time is it?”

“Round about six in the evening.”

He nodded. “Am I free to go?”

“When you like…will you go to Loki?”

“Not yet. Tomorrow, mayhap. Tonight, my step father’s,” and he stood, straightened his clothes, and walked out of the old, musty room. “I’m ready to confront him now.”

.....

Dr Foster was sitting at Loki’s table after dinner. “You know, I am fine, Loki. I require no protection.”

Evidently, Dr Foster was proud.

“No. But consider Jane, Dr. Foster. She is in no state to move, and the killer knows her identity. If he is even marginally wily, he will discover that she has a father.”  “And he likely knows who you are, my man,” he tipped his glass of port. 

“Perhaps.”

“And then what sort of protection can you offer as a corpse?”  “Father!” Jane exclaimed. She was rather enjoying listening to the banter. But he had gone too far. “Really, have some care.”

Dr Foster smiled, looking at Jane. “It appears I am outvoted,” he glanced at Loki. “You are very generous. I thank’ee, especially for taking such good care of my daughter.”

Jane coughed.

Loki held his gaze. ”It’s been a pleasure.”

Jane kicked him under the table while she smiled at her father.

“Hm. Well, I suppose we are staying the night, daughter.”

“It is comfortable, I assure you.”  “Oh yes,” interjected Loki. “It is my particular concern that my guests feel both comfortable and welcome,” he paused. “You have felt both, I trust, Jane.”  “And then some,” she smiled sweetly.

Loki smiled and cleared his throat. “You see, Dr Foster, no harm shall reach either you or your daughter. I am a sensitive host. My guests are always my primary concern. And their comfort and pleasure.”

“Say no more. I’ll just go up to the room you indicated,” and he got up and walked upstairs.

He was gone, leaving the pair.

Jane burst into laughter. “You need to mind your tongue!”

“Can I charge you with that task?” he winked.

“Happily. By the bye, you are naughty, hm?”

Loki was clearing the things. “You’ll need to reprimand me, Jane.”

She rolled her eyes. “Can you see to my wrist, please? You never finished…”

“Of course,” he went over to the hearth in the sitting room and lit the fire. “Come.”

She went over, her leg still giving her some pain, but considerably less than earlier. Her limp was decidedly less pronounced. 

“I believe that I already miss you in my clothes,” he observed as she sat down.

“Curiously, they are more comfortable than ladies’ clothing,” she observed with sarcasm, and she rolled up her left sleeve.

He pulled over the ottoman and sat with the tweezers. He set to work. “It looks to be inflamed, Jane…it might be in the beginning stages of infection…” he pulled out a few larger pieces of wood. 

“Wonderful news,” she replied sardonically. “We’ll need to clean it out.”

“How are your other injuries?” and a few more splinters…

“Much better. This is the only one hurting consistently.”

He nodded, and took out a few more bits. He blew on her wrist. “Jane?” he asked, dabbing her wrist with a towel he had brought over.

“Hm?” she was watching him work. It wasn't nearly as traumatic as it had been eight hours ago.

“Should I speak with your father?” a few more bits.

“Well, I imagine you’ll need to…we are living here for the time being.”

“You miss my meaning.”

“I do?” she couldn't imagine what he meant.

He stopped and looked at her. “I mean to ask his permission for your hand.”

Her mouth fell open. Did he really…? She ought to be thrilled… she should be happy…everyone her age was married…had been for years. She was in love with Loki…

He paled. “If you are unsure…” his gaze fell.

“Loki…this is rather sudden.”

“We had sex Jane. Unless one is paying for it, this is generally how this works.”

She nodded. “Can I let you know?”

He swallowed…he didn’t know what he expected…she had been kidnapped, nearly killed…was in mortal danger, and had lost her virginity, all in about eighteen hours. “Yes. Of course.” He cleaned her wound once more, and put the salve on it, wrapped it in the gauze. “There,” he cleared the things up and got up to put them away. 

Jane sat there in a slight stupor. 

She had just been proposed to. Twenty four hours ago she was at Asgard with Loki. Twenty four hours that had changed her life.

She sat back…she did feel much better. She was sore, yes, pretty much all over…her leg still hurt a touch…her right hand hardly hurt at all…and her left hurt badly. 

“So…when does your father go to sleep?” he returned to the sitting room.

“Ah…I’m not sure….” she paused. She rather wanted to be alone. “I’m very tired, actually…I think I’ll go up.” He had set up a room for her. It was a three bedroom house, thankfully. 

Though he had thought that they might go to bed together, after Dr Foster went to sleep.

“In your room, then?”

Jane shifted. “Yes.”

He nodded, and kissed her cheek. “Goodnight, Jane.”

Loki sat in the chair just occupied by Jane and sighed. He was often brash when it came to things that he wanted. He didn’t think things through, acted on impulse.

Jane wasn't like that, ordinarily…though if she was passionate, she could be persuaded. Stubborn tendencies notwithstanding. 

He rested his head on the back of the chair. Perhaps he had moved too quickly. 

But this was the way things worked! You love someone, you marry them. Precious few people could boast actually loving their spouse. When you discover someone whom you love, you should not waste time… you marry them. Life was difficult and fleeting. To be wary today could mean a lifetime of regret tomorrow…and a lifetime often meant a funeral by fifty. What’s more, if you have relations with them, you most certainly marry them.

Perhaps she disliked marriage. 

Perhaps she was worried about her father.

Perhaps he loved her more than she loved him. 

Loki swallowed. He was all right with that. 

Sort of.

It wasn't like he wasn't used to it…

.....

Jane laid in her bed in the bedroom Loki supplied her with. She felt a touch guilty, as though she should just say “yes” and be done. This was how things worked.

At least, that’s how her friends whom she wasn't friends with any longer had described it. One went out a few times with a suitor, they enjoyed a few kisses (sometimes more), and then the suitor would ask their father permission.

Unless they were poor. Then it didn't matter. 

But Jane had never thought about herself getting married. Never considered herself to be that sort of girl. She was going to care for her father and run the apothecary. 

She also, she reminded herself, never thought that she would fall in love. After her infatuation with Thor subsided, she resolved to herself that romantic love was simply not for her. Falling in love…she smiled. But that was what she had done.

Perhaps that was the difference she couldn't account for, and the game changer, as it were.

She rolled her eyes. Of course that makes all the difference! What a ridiculous observation. 

But one, she supposed, which needed to be made. She was in love. Why shouldn't she marry the man whom she was in love with?

Jane was wide awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking about how just a day ago, she was looking into the cold blackness of that room.

What would she have thought if at that point, she knew that a day later she would be proposed to? 

By Loki.

She smiled. She lit the candle on the bedside table, and glanced at the clock ticking in the corner. 

Just midnight…

And she stood.

.....

Dreams, for Loki, were often frustrating in that he would always fall short in them, and would wake up frustrated.

This night was no different.

He went to bed confused and somewhat upset about Jane’s reaction to his proposal. 

Perhaps he should rethink how he proposed. Perhaps he needed to ask her, not her father. 

But that wasn't how it worked…that’s not how Thor asked Sif…he went to her father. 

He dreamt of faraway places, just out of reach.

Of dark alleys, of screams and of Jane…being taken from him…

“Jane…” he whispered…

She froze. “Loki?” Jane had snuck into his room stealthily to talk to him. It was after midnight, and she supposed that she did have an ulterior motive. She was ashamed of herself. 

But not overly so.

She couldn't hear him…”Jane! Wait!”

“Loki…” she went to him and touched his arm. 

He jumped, grabbed her, and pulled her to him.

“Ouch!” and she slipped, as she was bearing her weight on her injured left leg, and fell, smacking her knee on the wooden bed frame. And he was squeezing her left arm, though not on her wrist, but it hurt nonetheless. 

They were frozen…there had been a clamor…and they were both aware that Jane’s father was just down the hall, asleep.

“What are you doing?” he hissed as he sat up and helped Jane to her feet. “Are you all right?” collecting himself.

“I’m…” what was she doing…? “I wanted to speak with you. And yes. I’m fine.”

“You want to speak with me now?”

“Well,” she paused, sitting down on his bed. “Yes, actually.”

He rubbed his face, and sighing, sat back into the bed. He looked at her. 

She was looking steadily at him, yet remained mute.

His eyebrows went up, and he turned his hands palm side up…”While I admire your intelligence, Jane, I think that I might need to take my regard under review. Yet again, you think me a mind reader,” he paused. “Though perhaps I should be flattered. Either way, you’ll need to tell me what this is about.”

Jane smiled. “I love you.”

He returned her smile. “And I you, but that surely could have waited until morning.”

“No,” she shook her head. “It couldn’t…” she looked at her hands and then up at him. “I was going to apologize for my reaction to the discussion about marriage earlier, but I think that I won’t.”

He folded his hands and nodded.

“I won’t apologize because it was honest. I’m not sure…or I wasn’t. But now, now having thought about it, and having lived through a near death experience, and knowing that I love you, why shouldn't we be married, if that’s what we want?”

“Is that what you want?”

“I think so,” Jane said, nodding. “It’s not that I ever had a particular aversion to marriage. It’s more that I never thought about it all that much.”

“What do you think now, Jane?” he swallowed.

“I think…” she paused. “Have you wanted to get married?”

“I…” he considered for a moment. “I suppose…” he looked at the ceiling, the candlelight flickering and creating shadows of odd shapes…”Yes. I have. But in recent years gave it up as a bad job.”

“Why?”

“Sif, mostly.”

“Sif?”

“Thor’s wife. We were close, and I think, though I hardly admitted it…” he looked at her and laughed. “It seems that I have a predilection for ignoring things…at any rate…I was disappointed with how things turned out.”

“Were you in love with her?” Jane asked softly.

Was he? “It’s difficult to say. My first reaction is that, no. I wasn’t. But at the time, I may have believed myself to be.”

“Did you…ah…?” she blushed.

“Have sex with her?” he supplied.

“Yes thank you,” her gaze fell.

“No. But we came close a couple of times.”

Jane nodded. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I want to be as forthright with you as possible, Jane. I do not open easily to other people. I aim to see to that with you.”

She looked up at him, and saw his vulnerability…his care for her, his love…how he had demonstrated repeatedly his adoration and his sincerity…and yes, she loved him…and yes, she…”Yes.”

“I’m sorry?” he narrowed his eyes in confusion.

“Yes. I’ll marry you. You are the best person I’ve ever known, despite your protests,” she added. “And I love you. There really should be no other reason sought.”

He didn’t move. “Did you just…?”  “Agree to marriage? I did. Were you not paying attention? This is a poor launching point, Loki,” she smiled.

He laughed, and through his laughter, some tears were spilt. He leaned over, and took her face in his hands, and kissed her hungrily, ravenously…

He pulled her nightdress over her head and eased her back, pulling his own nightclothes off…his fingers found her sex, and finding her ready (that was encouraging, she was already responding physically without much effort), eased into her. 

She gasped.

And as he moved, he whispered in her ear. “Will you be my wife, Jane Foster?”

“Yes,” she breathed back. “Yes…yes…I will, Loki Odinson.”

Afterward, as she laid in a tangle, she said. “I should go back. It wouldn't do to have father see us like this.”

He protested, but relented. 

She crept back into her room…

…and Dr Foster shut his door with a smile.

.....

There was a commotion, and Lady Durlish nearly screamed. 

“Down here, Wesley! Or on my honor, I will end you!”

Fandral was standing in the middle of the grand hallway, breathing hard, wielding a long butcher’s knife.


	25. More Than One Promise

More Than One Promise  
......

Too long too long too long…he was stalling…and Fandral’s hand shook which held the blade. “I won’t wait much longer, Wesley!” he yelled.

And then, his mother appeared, scared, unsure, and concerned. “Fandral?” she whispered. “What are you doing?” she was standing at the top of the stairs, clutching her dressing gown around her tightly.

“This doesn’t concern you, mother. I need to speak with Wesley…”

“What have we here?” and the knave appeared, peering around his wife, then walking into the open. “Well well…little boy has come home.”

“You,” Fandral breathed. “You bastard. Get down here now so that I can talk to you face to face!”

Durlish was unfazed, and he sauntered down the stairs…”Have you come to kill me, Fandral?” he cooed.

Fandral ground his teeth and sneered. “You’d like to think so, wouldn't you? You think that you'd get away that easily? I know what you’ve done!”

Wesley stopped in front of him. “And what have I done?”

Fandral began to circle him, his knife to his side, at the ready. “You and your cronies sought out someone to do your dirty work. You sent someone out to gather organs for Stark!”

“Did I now?”

“Yes, you did. And you rape my mother.”

“She is my wife,” he spat.

“She loathes you! She hates everything about you! Do you think that she wants you to touch her?!”

“Fandral!” Lady Durlish screamed as she ran down the stairs…

“You…” he continued. “You don’t know how to love…” Fandral breathed.

“And what do you know of it, boy?” he leered.

Fandral’s mother reached her husband. “He’s upset he’s just upset don’t listen to him…” she grabbed his arm, and he threw her to the floor.

That was all Fandral required. He took his knife, and grabbed Durlish’s arm, twisted it so that he fell to his knees…”Touch her again…” he breathed. “And you’ll lost something very very precious to you…” and the knife travelled from his throat down…he held his testicles by the rim of the knife. “I’ll castrate you, you fucking cad. And I’ll feed your balls to the dogs.”  

Durlish lost his smirk. “You wouldn’t…”

“Oh no? I am desperate…and you murdered Mary…”

“Who?” and pearls of sweat began to trickle down his forehead.

“Mary Kelly.”

“I swear…I’ve never heard of her…”

His grip tightened. “No? Well your scheme set this in motion, and whether or not you were the one who slit her throat, opened her up, tore apart her face, sliced off her skin or stole her heart, it is because you are a selfish, conniving, maniacal madman that she’s dead,” his grip slacked slightly. “And I loved her,” he swallowed. “And you’ll never tarnish anything that I love again.” The knife brushed his genitalia…and Durlish whimpered…he looked to his wife.

“Get your son off of me,” he hissed, his arm still bent ridiculously.

“No,” and she stood, rubbing her face. “No, I don’t think that I will. I’ve heard quite enough.”

Fandral was momentarily paralyzed…had his mother really just told Wesley “No”…? “Mother?” he looked at her crookedly.

She swallowed. “Go Fandral…before this goes any further.”

“Not without you,” he said, kicking Durlish’s feet out from under him, watching him fall to the floor, and pinning his arms while straddling him. “Tell me to kill him, and I will.”

Wesley Durlish’s countenance was panic-stricken. He squirmed…he cried out…

“You don't care about anyone but yourself…” Fandral began. “You have no regard for anyone…you think that those women were expendable…”

  “What women?” Wesley cried.

“The women you killed…”

“I didn’t…”

“You might as well have! You made it attractive to someone who’s poor and ill to kill them! And you sent that person out there, and he killed…”

“Martha!” Durlish squealed, as Fandral pushed the blade into his testicles.

“…you took advantage of the poor. Allowing them to resort to murder to make money…someone unhinged thought that they could do it, get rich, perhaps…and who cares about the prostitutes? They are a blight on society…” he snarled. “You abuse my mother, you killed the woman I love…”

“Fandral,” Lady Durlish whispered. “He didn’t kill them. You cannot send him to jail.”

“He may not have sliced them open, but he may as well have,” and he lifted the knife to his stepfather’s throat. “He encouraged it. Did nothing to stop it…he and Stark…I can send him to his grave.”

“It’s what he wants, dear. He wants to escape…and he would have the added bonus of you being imprisoned…hanged. Do not give him the satisfaction,” she moved his hand away from her husband’s throat.

Fandral glared at him, and taking his knife, slit the side of Wesley’s face open…blood poured everywhere, and Fandral rose to his feet. “Stay away from us.”

Fandral took his mother’s hand and led her out of the house and into the night, now heavy with mist and moon.

.....

Loki stretched and sighed. He opened his eyes and rolled onto his back. 

And memories of the night previous flooded his mind. 

He was engaged.

To Jane.

And he smiled…he would need to write to Frigga and Odin. 

Loki swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his face. 

He wanted to see Jane…now. 

Perhaps he could wake her….  
and a devilish grin washed over his face…

Loki put on his dressing gown and went out of his room, closing the door behind him.

“Morning, Loki!” Dr Foster exclaimed.

“Oh!” he jumped, turned, and smiled. “Good…morning, Dr Foster…did you sleep well?’”

“Call me George. And yes. Slept wonderfully sound,” he rocked on the balls of his feet, smiling.

“Excellent. Erm…” there went his plans. “I’ll just go clean my teeth and then make some tea, hm?”

“Wonderful,” and Dr Foster followed him into the kitchen. “Lovely house, Loki. You are very generous to open it up to Jane and I.”  
   
“Not at all,” he put the kettle on in the hearth. Loki turned and spied Dr. Foster looking at him with the same face that Jane had when she knew he was going to help her find the killer…”Damn.” 

“What?”

“You know, don’t you?”

“Know what?” false innocence seeping from his voice.

Loki folded his arms in front of him. “You know that I love your daughter.”

“And I know that she loves you…” he smiled.

Loki’s color changed. He nodded.

“…and I know that you are planning on asking me for permission for her hand, or, I daresay, you should be.”

Loki’s face fell, and he paled. “I…that is…of course I am…”

“Well, you have it, sir,” and he went to Loki and shook his hand. “Take good care of her, son.”

  Loki swallowed, he paused, then he pulled Dr Foster into an embrace. “Of course I will.”

“Now now,” he laughed, pulling away. “Let’s not get away from ourselves,” and he patted Loki’s arm.

“Apologies, Dr Foster. I simply…” he smiled, embarrassed. “I simply…I never had an ideal relationship with my own father.”

“Well, you are to be my son. We can begin afresh,” and he sat down.

Loki was positively beaming as Jane walked into the kitchen. “Good morning,” she smiled.

“Jane!” said Loki. “Jane, I think that I ought to have your father move in permanently. He needs attention.”  

Jane smiled and looked from not to the other. “Erm…all right…but what about me?” she cocked a brow.

“Jane…dearest,” began her father. “I know all about it,” and he went over and hugged his daughter. “You will be very happy,” he pecked her cheek. “And now, I believe I will go and have a look at your massive book collection. I always lamented my own paltry shelves.”

Loki watched him go and turned to Jane. “He is a good man, Jane.”

“That he is.”

“He is unable to care for himself without help, is that not so?”

Jane poured tea for herself and Loki. “Well, I imagine it would be considerably more difficult, yes,” she noted that her right hand was much, much better.

“Then he shall live with us,” Loki proclaimed.

Jane snapped her eyes to him. “Truly, Loki?”

“Absolutely,” and he went to her and wrapped his arms around her. “I will write to may family today,” he nuzzled her ear. “And, if you like, retrieve some things from your house in Algate. Is there anything in particular you require?”

“My book.”

He pulled away. “Your…?”

“The astronomy book you gave me. I should like it very much,” she smiled. 

He nodded and kissed her mouth. “You enjoyed it, then?” he went and obtained an apple. He would need to go to the market that day. Perhaps he could shop for a ring for Jane as well. Check on Fandral.

“It was the absolute best gift I’ve ever received,” and she sat at the table in the adjacent dining room. 

“How is your leg?” he sat next to her.

“Much better. Truly, only my left wrist hurts now.”

Loki nodded. “I’ll go out for a short while today, Jane. Would you like for me to stop at the apothecary? Put a sign in the window? Perhaps bring back some medicine for you?” he sipped his tea.

“Yes…” she began. She had hardly given the shop any thought at all…there was some money in there…she would need to think about going back to work. “When do you plan on returning to Asgard?”

“I hadn’t given it much thought, Jane,” and he hadn’t. “My primary concern is you at the moment, and your safety. We must assume that the killer knows who you are.”

“He does,” she swallowed.

And Loki shifted uncomfortably. He hated this…”Quite. Therefore, I would like for you to be in constant company of someone…preferably myself…until he is caught.”

“But what if he is never caught, Loki?”

“Well then. I suppose that I shall never let you out of my sight,” he smiled.

“Never is a long time,” and Jane rolled her eyes a touch.

“Oh I know. I lived ‘forever’ just a few nights ago, wandering the streets, convinced that you were…” he swallowed and looked away. He could not experience that again. He would not experience that again.

Jane took his hand and squeezed it. “I’m here,” she smiled.

Loki returned her smile and nodded.

And she was. And she was safe…but the lingering doubt plagued his thoughts as he was unsure if he could adequately protect her. The villain was cunning. And he knew who she was…”Are you attached to the shop in any real sense, Jane?”

“Pardon?” her heart slowed…

“I mean to say…” and he leaned forward in his chair to better look at her. “Would you be averse to the idea of leaving London for the country? Odin, while he may not favor me, would certainly be happy to see to our comfort. He has long held the erroneous notion that I would never marry,” he sat back and smiled to himself. “He will be pleased to learn of our engagement, and will want to ensure our safety, given the circumstances,” Loki wasn't absolutely certain of these assertions, but he had, in recent weeks, began to view his father differently. Ever since Odin had pledged five hundred pounds toward the reward, he had come to think that he cared for his welfare in a very honest way.

“Do you mean it, Loki?” Jane breathed.

“Yes…” he looked crookedly at her. “Is that…something that you want, then?”

And she smiled broadly. “I could not love you more if I tried,” she said. “You will take me from London’s scents, have my father live with us…it’s too much,” her gaze dropped. “I’ll be able to see the stars…”

“Well, I’m happy that you’re pleased,” and he stood. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Jane…I should like to be going. I have much to do, and need to be back before dark,” he went to obtain his coat. 

“So soon?” she stood.

“Now, love, the sooner I leave, the sooner I shall return,” he went to her and kissed her mouth. “The sooner we can get to bed,” he added softly in her ear.

Jane blushed and smacked his arm playfully. “You cad,” she laughed. 

He smiled and turned from her. “I’m heading for your house Dr Foster! Anything you require?” he flipped the collar up on his overcoat. He had abandoned his shorter jacket for the long one. The chill noticeably more potent.

“Not a thing, son,” returned the doctor.

Loki smiled, winked at Jane and left.

Jane sighed and looked around. She should clean up a bit. 

“He’s a good fellow, that fiancee of yours,” called in Dr Foster.

“I know,” she replied softly. And she set about to clean the kitchen.

.....

Loki strolled down towards Spitalfields with a bag full of things from the Foster’s. Nothing had appeared to be out of sorts when he was there. 

That was good.

He began to think in earnest about what to do with Jane. 

She had agreed to move. 

But Odin may require some time to fins a suitable place. 

Loki was deep in thought as he entered Asgard…

…and surprised to find Fandral there. “Fandral!” he exclaimed, and dropping the bags, went to him. “How are you?” he hugged him soundly. 

“Awful,” and he pulled away.

“Indeed. I am so very sorry. I’ve been seeing to Jane and her father.”

Fandral shrugged. “It’s deserted, Loki. The murder,” he looked away. “Has shocked everyone beyond words…”

Loki nodded. He had noticed the lack of people around. “Is there anything that I can do?”

Fandral paused. “Well, if you are taking care of Jane, then perhaps you can give me more work…I can open and such. I need the money, as I have my mother living with me now,” he folded his arms across his chest and sat on his stool behind the counter.

“Your mother? Isn't she married to that Durlish fellow?” he came back in with two cups of brew.

Fandral sneered. “In name, yes.”

“What does that mean?” he sipped.

“Oh, Loki! What a mess…” Fandral sipped the hot brew and set it down. He supposed he should come clean. “My stepfather was the one who initiated the interest in human organs.”

“Pardon?”

“He knows Anthony Stark. He began a search for someone who might be able to procure human organs for Stark in America. He isn't the killer…” he saw Loki’s visage darken. “I don't think that he knows who it is. But he started this whole thing, I’m positive.”

The coffee was pouring out of his cup while he stood there in shock.

His fault.

Wesley Durlish.

Sexual deviant.

Friends with Lusk.

His fault…

He threw his cup to the floor, shattering it. “Come, Fandral…we need to visit your stepfather.”

“I…” Fandral began to issue a protest.

“Not a word. We go. Now.” 

And they left after Loki locked the door.

“Is he home?”  

“No idea,” Fandral wasn't keen on this idea at all. He had said everything that needed saying.

“How far?”

“Just under a mile…” Fandral struggled to keep up. “Loki…I have already threatened him…”

“Yes…and if he has any idea who the murderer is, then Jane is safe. You do realize that Jane is in mortal danger? That the killer knows who she is?”

Fandral’s pace slowed. “I…” he hadn’t, but yes…it made sense. “I’m sorry, Loki. Perhaps I should have said something earlier.”

“Yes, you should have,” they rounded a bend. “But there is no point on dwelling on it,” besides, Fandral had lost infinitely more than Loki. And Loki was not about to suffer so great a loss. “When this meeting is concluded, Fandral, I’d like you to help me in the Market. We needn't open Asgard today…no one is about, anyway,” he concluded softly.

They reached the home of Lord Durlish, and Loki pounded on the door. 

“He might have a weapon,” warned Fandral…”I was rather crazed last evening when I was here.”

“Open up, Durlish! Open now, or I will have the whole of Scotland Yard here in moments!” Loki yelled.

The doorknob began to turn, and Loki seized his chance and pushed himself into the house.

Wesley Durlish was on the other side of the door, wide-eyed and breathing heavy. “Why are you here?”

Loki grabbed his shirt, pulled him up, and threw him against the wall. “Who is he?” he snarled, never letting go of his shirt.

Fandral was right behind him, making certain that Durlish wasn't concealing a weapon.

“Who is who?” he whimpered.

“The killer…the one you sent on this morbid mission,” he pulled him away and threw him against the wall once more. “Tell me!”

“I don’t know!” Durlish was shaking.

“Liar,” he spat, and threw him to the floor like a rag. “You miserable excuse for a human being,” he kicked him in the stomach. “You had better tell me whom you hired. I’m not a terribly patient man. Nor am I as skilled with a knife as I should like. Perhaps I’ll have my fiancee here to open you up. She is quite adept with a knife…as an apothecary, she requires such expertise. And she would dearly love to exact some revenge after her ordeal at the hands of the murderer.”

“I hired no one! I swear to you…I know nothing…”

“You know a great deal more than you are letting on,” whispered Loki menacingly. 

“No…no…I swear…” he backed away. “Fandral…tell him…”

Fandral was next to Loki, looking down on him. “He doesn’t know, Loki. Allow him to rot here.”

Loki stood more erect, staring at the mouse, cowering in the corner in a fetal position. 

“You shall leave London, or I shall see to your death. Understand?”

He nodded. 

“You are to stay away from Fandral and myself…if I see you, I shall end you.”

Durlish nodded again.

“You have one week to vacate the city. In the meantime, you are to report to Scotland Yard everything that you know,” Loki turned. “I shall be aware of noncompliance,” he said with his back to him. “And will act accordingly,” and he left. 

Fandral left, following Loki. “Will you really kill him, Loki?”

No answer.

“Are you truly engaged to Jane…?”

At this he looked, he smiled, and nodded. 

“Ah! Well. Congratulations.”

“I was rather hoping that you could aid me today in the market, Fandral. I require some provisions…as well as a ring…and haven't enough food for five.”

“Five? For dinner, you mean? Are you having guests?”

“Well,” and they rounded onto Spitalfields. “There’s myself and Jane. Dr Foster,” he paused, and looked inside at the grocer’s to see if they were opened, and then turned to him. “And yourself and your mother…I’ll need to alert my cook,” and he went inside.

And Fandral smiled, following him.


	26. Dangerous Waters

Dangerous Waters

....

The candlelight flickered softly in the dining room. There was warm laughter, and even, one might say, some mirth. 

Jane was astounded at the generosity of Loki…for though she knew him to be generally speaking, kind, he wasn't particularly open. Yet here he was, entertaining her father, Fandral, and Martha Durlish. 

…and he was smiling…

“Dr Foster, you must forgive my man Fandral here. He is not terribly delicate when speaking. Everything that enters his mind is immediately expressed,” he sipped his wine.

“Well, Loki. It is fortunate that you don’t suffer from such a malady as that. Imagine, revealing your heart to Jane months ago when I guessed it,” and Fandral winked a the lady.

And she blushed deeply. “Oh, I don’t know, Fandral. You seem to suggest that I wouldn't have received his attentions happily.”

“You would not have, I assure you.”

Jane’s brow furrowed. “No. Perhaps not. I very well may have laughed at him, and then believing him to be making a mockery of me, tossed him from the shop,” she laughed and nudged Loki’s foot with her own, as he was sitting opposite her.

Loki swallowed…had he really been so absurdly cruel? In his attempts to conceal his attraction for her, had he been unnecessarily severe? “I should hope that you wouldn't laugh, Jane,” was all he said.

Her countenance softened. “Of course not, not now…but you must allow that you were…well…playful to a fault around me.”

His gaze fell and he nodded. Perhaps that was fair. But Jane was as well…and he couldn't help but think that he was encouraged by her own playful nature responding to his. 

“Well, since we are all of us tucked safely in the arms of Mr. Odinson, what can we say about the villain who brought us here?” Dr. Foster was a to-the-point fellow. And it wasn't lost on him that there was a vicious murderer at large. 

“A poor sod, I reckon,” observed Fandral…Fandral, whose face was lined with worry and sadness. 

“Hardly. He is at large, and poor or not, that does not excuse him from the atrocities performed at his hand,” and Loki sipped. 

“Never said it was. I have been touched by his insanity and poverty more than anyone here, but I know that he was likely working toward a goal of financial security. Though he is a murderer, we can safely presume that he is poor.”

Loki swallowed his emotion. “I am sorry, Fandral,” and he turned to Jane. “Would you say that he was financially…disadvantaged, Jane? You are the only person present who actually spoke with him.”

Jane looked around at the company, all eyeing her expectantly. “He had an accent…he spoke well…” she turned to her fiancee. “You saw the conditions he lived in. He could not have had money.”

“He spoke well…” Loki nodded. “As though he might have been educated…”

“Perhaps,” Jane shrugged. “Though I’d guess more like he had been trained deliberately. He was not English. He had perhaps studied voraciously and then moved here.”

“Tell me, Fandral,” Loki held Jane’s gaze a moment then turned to him. “What sort of business does Wesley Durlish operate? I know him to be generally unpleasant…”

“He has his hand in all sorts of things,” observed Martha. “I never know. He spends his money with abandon.”

Jane was ruminating hard on what she was hearing…she hadn’t considered the position she was in, save the fact that she was in danger…would she be able to pick out the killer’s voice in a crowd? Unlikely. But she was the only person she knew of who possibly had the means to identify him. 

He was desperate, but he never sounded that way to her in the few minutes of the interaction with him.

He sounded calm.

Determined.

Unaffected.

What that all meant, she hardly knew. It was as though he was insane, but not…

“I’m tired,” she announced.

“Apologies, Miss Foster,” began Fandral. “I never adequately inquired after you.”

“Do not think of it, Fandral. I am only so happy that you and your mother are safe,” she rose. “Will Lizzie be cleaning up, too, Loki?” Lizzie was the cook he occasionally brought in for meals.

“She will, yes,” he appeared to be slightly concerned. “Can I get you anything?”

She was standing. “No, I am well. Just sleepy…” she pecked her father’s cheek. “Goodnight, all,” and Jane went upstairs.

Loki watched her ascend the stairs. 

“I should be going as well,” Dr Foster announced. “Pleasure, Mrs Durlish, Fandral.” He stood uneasily. “Goodnight, Loki.”

Loki’s eyes fell to his lap. He wondered what could be bothering Jane…

“Why don't you join me for some port, Loki,” Fandral said, standing. “Mother, will you head up, then?”

Martha nodded, and went over to Loki. “Thank you,” she breathed. “We are very much indebted to you,” she kissed his cheek.

“There is no debt,” he replied, blushing. “You are very welcome here.”

She patted his hand and went up to the room she was now sharing with her son. 

“Come, Loki…” and Fandral went to the sitting room and lit a fire. 

Loki made his way in, a bit distracted. He sat, and poured out some port for them both. “How are you feeling?”

“Well, apart from a broken heart, a devastated mind, and a numb feeling seeping through my entire being, fine,” he sipped.

Loki smiled and lowered his gaze. “I am so very sorry, Fandral. I can only imagine…and actually, I did,” he thought about a few nights ago when roaming the streets…”And it was torturous.”

“It won’t do to dwell on it. She is dead. There’s nothing that will bring her back.”

Loki looked at him with tears welling. “If I could take your pain away…”

Fandral shrugged. “You have done much. The fact that you aren’t allowing mother or I to be alone while Durlish remains here means so much to us both.”

Loki took a long draught of wine. “Jane is still suffering the aftereffects, I think.”

“Poor girl,” but he smiled. “Tell me, Loki…have the two of you…?”

His gaze snapped to Fandral’s. “What?”

“Come, man. Out with it!”

“I…” he stammered.

“And therein says it all,” he smiled deeply and sat back.

“I’ll not allow you to judge us. We are grown adults, and this is perfectly…”

“Stop there,” he smiled. “I am in absolutely no position to judge you, nor would I dream of it, really. I loved a prostitute!”

“Fandral…have some care…” he chided.

“It was what she was, and I loved her regardless. So, you and Jane can have at it. More power to you,” he tipped his glass. “But don’t forget that it was I who first took note of your fancy, and I daresay caused you to reflect upon it.”

“Ah. Yes. This was all your doing, Fandral,” he gulped the rest and stood.

“Glad you see sense. You’re very welcome for your present happiness, and I hope that you and Jane remember when she is expecting your first son, and name him accordingly.”

“You desire our son to be your namesake?” he asked with some incredulity.

“It really is the least you could do, considering,” he laughed. 

“The least I could do was offer you my home, which I have done. But if you aren’t careful, your mother will be enjoying the room for herself,” and he left the sitting room to ascend the stairs.

“You love it, Loki!” called Fandral. “You wouldn't know what to do without me!”

At this, he stopped, and looked at him. “Quite right. Now, don't give me reason to discover it,” and he winked and continued upstairs.

.....

Jane was sitting by the window.

She wiped the glass with the sleeve of her robe, trying to peer out into the night, but to no avail. The street lamps’ glow was causing the glass to reflect the inside, and Jane wished to see the stars.

Loki lived in a quiet section of London, and she enjoyed the peacefulness much more so than the constant hum of Algate; or, indeed, the occasional scream. 

She wanted to read, but she wanted more to take herself back to the tiny black room…

…she thought that she might be able to discover something in her reverie…

But she enjoyed no success. Her emotional side demanded that she remember as little as possible, despite the protests of her reason. 

She sighed heavily, and laid her head back…

…closed her eyes…

“Oh no, deary….Don’t do that…”

She felt herself on the cold floor…bound, helpless…

“I thought that it was you, that night in the alley. They thought you were doing the killing. What a laugh.”

….the killer…

“And all the while, the Yard couldn't catch me, but you, a little woman, an apothecary…and your beau…came the closest. Poor Miss Mary…”

…he knew Mary…or maybe he was just using a common name…

“Now now, Miss. Don’t make yourself sick. It’ll be over right quick…”

…he was going to kill her…

“Fucking fools,” he said. “Well…no matter,” he muttered. “I can come back for you. It’s not like you can get anywhere. And right now, I’ve got other more pressing matters…” and he left via a door at the back wall. 

…he had meant to return…

“Jane?”

Her eyes flew open, her breath came fast, her heart pounding. She swallowed, seeing Loki closing the door behind him. 

“Are you all right?” he went over and pulled another chair to sit opposite her. 

Jane nodded. “I was just thinking about his voice…what he had said…”

He had never asked her directly what had transpired between them. He was fearful that she would react badly. “Would you like to tell me?”

Jane rubbed her palms on her lap…her left hand still smarting, though not as potent. “He called me ‘deary’. He knew that I was a suspect…and that I was in the alley that night I hurt my ankle. It was him, Loki,” she looked at him. “He has known me all along,” she swallowed, dropped her gaze once more. “He said that you and I had come the closest…he said ‘Poor Miss Mary’…and he told me not to worry, it would be quick…” she swallowed again, then looked at him. “And he meant to return. He said that he could come back for me. Do you think he’s dead, Loki?”

He let out a stuttering breath, shaking his head, long black locks falling into his face. “I don’t know…I don’t know…” This was all very upsetting, for it said that the killer was much more onto them than they had been on him. He knew things about them, they knew next to nothing about him. 

This was unsettling, to say the very least. They were all in much more danger than he had originally supposed. 

Not that he wasn't keenly aware that they all were in grave danger…

“Jane?”

“Hm?” she looked at him quizzically.

“We need to leave here. This place. I can pester Odin a bit more to see that we have a suitable home sooner.”

“Don’t be silly,” she dismissed. “I won’t live in fear.”

“It simply isn't a matter of being fearful, Jane. It’s good sense.”

“Loki, everything is all right. I can live here with you and father until your father arranges for a house, and I’ll work at the apothecary with Darcy until we can leave.”

“Darcy?”

“The lady who helps father.”

Loki sat back, smiling. “And what will she do? Fix him dinner? Oh, yes. Capital idea. ‘No no, Mister Insane Murderer, allow me to cook you a stew. Please, do put that knife away…’ Really, Jane.”

She rolled her eyes. “The point is is that I won’t be alone. The killer won’t attack a woman in company.”

“Even if said woman is of dubious intelligence?”

“You don't even know her. That’s hardly fair,” she sat back, crossing her arms in front of her. 

“Apologies, Jane,” and he smiled. “I actually have a much better idea…” and he knelt before her, and placed his hands on her knees, running them slowly up her thighs. 

“Have you?” she grinned, her arms falling to the armrest. 

“Indeed, yes…” he moved closer to her, his hands on her hips now, his mouth inches from hers. His hands went up her torso, caressing her breasts softly, and Jane issued a soft moan at the contact. 

And just then, he stopped. Keeping his face close to hers, he reached for his pocket, and pulled out a small box. “Here,” he handed it to her, and pulled slightly away, leaning on the armrest, keeping his eyes fixed on hers.

“What’s this?” she looked at it crookedly.

“It’s a box.”

“Thank you,” she sighed. “But…I don’t understand…”

“Well, generally speaking, a box is used to house something, usually a desirable something, and when one is presented with such a thing as a box, one must open it in order to discover the contents.”

“At this moment I loathe you almost as much as I love you.”

“Just open it, Jane,” he said.

Jane took the lid off, and discovered a blue silk inside. She unwrapped the silk, and there, in the middle, was a small ring. She picked it up, and looked at him. 

“You don't like it,” he sat back on his haunches.

She furrowed her brow, and slipped it on her finger. 

It was a silver setting, with small carvings along the band. In the center sat a small ruby. 

“I don’t like it,” she said, looking at him. “Not at all,” she smiled.

“Well, if you allow me to…”

“I love it,” she whispered, and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him soundly, knocking them both to the floor. Jane kissed him with purpose and want, and began to tear open his shirt. 

“Just a moment, Jane…” his breath was heavy, his arousal pulsing…”Allow me…” and he undid his shirt as she lifted her blouse over her head. “I take it you like your trinket,” he smirked.

“Trinket,” she whispered, and she pushed him onto his back. “’Tis no trinket…” she ran her tongue over his chest…down…and undid his pants. “It is the most wondrous of things…” and she eyed his throbbing member. “To think, I had spied it weeks ago, in the jeweler’s window, lamenting it…something I never do…thinking how I have but little in terms of jewelry, but if I were to have anything,” she leaned down, her nipples brushing his erection with her movement, “It would be this,” and she took him in her mouth hungrily.

Loki had been watching her avidly, astounded at her dynamism, the manner in which she directed him…and he moaned audibly when she took him. Her tongue was dexterous, her need acute, and she siphoned him with ease; and though her technique was immature, she made up for it in her zeal. 

He came, hard, and she took the whole of it. Jane sat up to find an astounded fiancee looking at her. “What are you about, Jane Foster?” he heaved. “You pleasure me on the floor of your bedroom, as though…” he paused. “Had you done that before?”

“Of course not,” and suddenly aware, took her blouse and wrapped it around her. “I had,” she said softly, “…heard of it being spoken of…and I always wondered about it.”

Loki sat up fully now, and took his pants around his waist. “Jane…” he wasn't certain how to broach this. “…your desire…was it fueled only by the ring?” he was loathe to admit it, but he was concerned that possessions were on her mind. Especially having seen his home.

“No,” she sounded offended. “It was the fact that you knew me well enough to recognize something that I would like. I don't give a toss for these things, and had it not been this particular thing, might have suggested we forget the ring business altogether.”

He nodded, and smiled. “I love you,” he stood, and offered her a hand.

Jane took it, and he led her to her bed, where he undressed her deliberately, and made love to her softly. 

The day ended with a tangle, and a lament of the moon…

......

…The waters were dirty blue. 

And he had just made it out in time. 

He had no idea that there were actual murders taking place! He had no intention of being a party to such a thing. What would his father say! 

Tony, as he liked to be called, was watching the water at the helm of the ship en route to America. 

“Mr Stark?” 

He turned. “Yes?” he didn’t recognize the man in front of him, though he was dressed as though he worked on board.

“A letter, sir,” he bowed.

“What is your name, my man?” Tony liked the man’s stature. 

“I am called Mr. Jarvis by those whom I am employed by.”

“Jarvis,” he repeated. “I like that,” he nodded to him and turned away. He might just offer this man a job when they arrive state side.

Tony opened the letter…

Mr Stark.

I wish you did not leve London Sor. I am in need of mony. This place is Hell.  
Things are bad and I do not now when I will be well. I can not think that I will be. I have yer things you wanted. Plese, I need yer help Hell is hot and cold and I need to leve.

signed  
miserable and cold and hungre Mishter Stark

 

Tony read and reread it…

He looked around him frantically.

Then he swallowed, and ripped the paper, sending it into the ocean.


	27. It Ends

There was much in terms of frivolity and pomp when the Odinson family learned of their youngest son's engagement; Frigga was thrilled, Odin doubtful at first, Thor, boisterous. It was simply not a question that Loki and Jane would settle closer to their country home in Kent.

It had been some months without a single grotesque event. The funeral for Mary Kelly was as somber a thing as ever imagined, and Fandral was quite devastated. People from all over attended it, and no one felt safe for a long time thereafter. Thankfully, the weather had turned, and the chill kept most from the streets, anyhow.

Jane recovered from her wrist injury, but there was some nerve damage that forever haunted the joint, and she had a time with it.

She was undeterred in her resolve to change Whitechapel in terms of safety, and partnered with Selvig to help ensure it. They continued to meet weekly, mostly with Loki, and even, sometimes, with George Lusk.

Loki gave up going to Asgard daily, handing that responsibility to Fandral, who gladly accepted it. He was being paid much more for his time, which allowed him to care for his mother.

Loki was happy to attend to Jane most days at the apothecary.

And in more ways than one.

Fandral and Martha stayed at the Bethnal Green house, renting space from Loki. It was as full a house as ever there was…five people living there!

And everyone was settled after the autumn months of terror.

And it is springtime when we meet them all again, on the precipice of a wedding.

Jane had fallen into a steady rhythm at the shop, and began to wonder about whom she would sell it to. She didn't want to leave Spitalfields Market bereft of an apothecary. It was something that she dwelled much on, concerned as she was with everyone in the area.

"An' ye be gettin' married, Miss Jane?" asked Freddy Church.

"I am, yes. In just a week, Freddy."

"Ta dat miserable ole bloke, Loki?"

"Heh," she replied meekly. "Well, he isn't as miserable as all that, Freddy," she handed him a bag with the remedies he was obtaining for his ailing mother.

"Well, I 'ope 'e treats ya well, Miss Jane. Ye be de nices' of all dese folk 'round de market," he tipped his cap and headed out…almost knocking Loki over.

He was looming in the doorway. He smiled a snide smile at Freddy, who took a look at him and scampered away.

Loki enjoyed using his height to inflict dominance on the shorter folk in London.

"I don't like him," he announced, entering the shop fully.

"Why ever not?" Jane replied, putting things away.

"He smiles too much," and Loki closed the door.

"Maybe you don't smile enough."

"Nonsense," and he approached her. "Tell me Jane. What time do you plan on closing today?"

"Hadn't thought about it, really…why?" she turned to him.

"Because," and he placed his hands on her waist. "I wanted time alone with my fiancee, and there really is no place we can be alone, seeing as I'm currently running a hotel."

She smiled, looking at his mouth. "What do you suggest?" she asked.

"Mm…something along these lines," and he lifted her to the counter, placing her there, and then pushed her skirts up to her waist, rubbing his hand along her thighs. "What are your thoughts, Jane?' he kissed her neck.

"I agree…an excellent idea…" her breath came quick.

Loki kissed her deeply, tore away at her clothing which disallowed his access.

"Is this wise?" Jane whispered in his ear as he entered her.

"Nothing is wise, Jane," and he moved.

Her head went back, his hands graced her breasts softly as he moved within her…and she moaned.

"My bride," he whispered, bringing her head toward his own, and kissing her.

And as the pair became more erratic, the counter shifted, but neither cared. Loki came, and fell slack, but continued to massage Jane's sex until she climaxed, herself.

It was dim in the shop while they straightened their clothing. "Is there a reason for this afternoon's activities, Loki?"

"Merely my desire, and that includes the desire to see my betrothed. We are to married, Jane, in a week."

Jane nodded.

Ordinarily, an engagement lasted a month or two. But Jane wanted things to calm down a bit before they had any celebratory event, and she also didn't fancy a wedding in the winter.

She couldn't imagine how her life would be any different, considering that she and Loki lived together, slept together…

There was the issue of children, she supposed.

And it was a wonder that she wasn't pregnant already.

Loki looked at her crookedly. "Are you all right, Jane?"

"Fine. Why?" and she went to the back to clean some of the instruments.

He swallowed. "We can look for a suitable storefront in Kent this week if you like," he called out to her, and sat on the settee.

"Lovely," she returned, and entered, smiling.

"Come, dear, sit with me," he held his hand out to her.

Jane went to him, took a deep breath, and sat next to him.

"You cannot fool me, Jane Foster. Something is bothering you," he took her hand.

"Well, no. Not exactly, Loki. It's just…I don't want…" she paused. "Never mind."

"What don't you want?" and his heart did whisper that she was changing her mind, and she didn't want him any longer.

Jane retrieved her hand from his grasp and covered her face. "I don't want this to go away," she sobbed.

"What to go away?" he looked at her carefully.

"This. Us. I've seen what marriage can do to couples. I see it all the time, actually. It can mean the end of so much…" she wiped her face.

"You flatter me, Jane."

She looked at him in question.

"That is to say…I have never been romantic in a strict sense. I have little experience in the realm of things romantic. That you desire us to remain in a state of perpetual engagement is quite a compliment," he leaned over and nuzzled her neck.

"Stop, Loki. I'm serious," she pulled away. "We are so very fortunate. I don't want to spoil it with a wedding."

He looked at her. "Nothing will be spoiled, Jane. I love you. You love me. That's all either of us needs to know."

She swallowed. "Promise?"

"Promise," and he kissed her softly. "Well," he slapped his hands on his knees. "Has the apothecary run its course for the day?"

"Yes," and she let out a sigh and stood. "Yes. I think so."

"Very good," he adjusted his jacket…though spring was kissing London tantalizingly, the chill remained steadfast.

"Loki," Jane said. "We never started that revolt," she slipped her own wrap on.

"And you would like to be a revolutionary?" he opened the door for her.

"Well, you make it sound so childish," she locked the door. "As though, I dunno…'When I get old enough, I'd like to be a revolutionary.' It really isn't like that."

"What's it like, then?"

"More like…I want to do something. I want to help these wretched souls."

Loki looked around them. Yes, there were plenty of people out and about who needed more than they had.

Children playing in the gutter.

Mothers selling whatever they had (including themselves) for food for their children.

"We could support government officials who are concerned about the welfare of the wretched."

"I suppose that's a start," Jane replied. She looked around her and wondered at the state of these people…how did they not fall into despair? How did they not succumb to the streets utterly?

Perhaps they did.

And they reached Loki's home, and before they went inside, Jane took his hand. "Thank you, Loki."

"What for?" he smiled.

"For everything."

.......

Erik Selvig was sitting at his desk. He had been promoted to Chief Inspector, and though he felt he was undeserving, he was pleased for the increase in pay, for he had three children at home. He was unwilling to send his thirteen year old son to work just yet.

He was in a minority regarding that sentiment.

He looked out of the window…spring was blossoming and there was a a bustle that the winter months had not seen.

The murders he had been tasked to solve had all but ended. There was one incident of a mutilated corpse missing its limbs back in December, but Selvig rather thought that it was unrelated.

He felt sorry for the lot of it. Sick, even.

"Hello, Selvig. Sorry to interrupt your reverie…"

He looked over at the door. "Loki," he smiled and stood, and offered his hand.

Loki shook it, then sat. "Well, Chief Inspector Selvig. You appear well."

"I am, I s'pose," and he sat as well. "What brings you here? I haven't had the pleasure for many weeks now."

"I have a business proposal for you," he returned with a smile.

Selvig cocked a brow. "Business proposal?"

"Yes. Jane and I are leaving London after the wedding, and we are both concerned about the state of the area," he paused. "Fandral and Darcy Lewis will take the apothecary over, and Asgard…" he smiled. "I'd like to turn into a safe haven for the women of Whitechapel."

"A safe haven?"

"Just so. Odin has purchased the building next to it, and we will convert it with beds and such, and with running water. The Ten Bells has promised one meal a day for the women, and others will donate other goods."

Selvig eyed him curiously. "There is much to be considered here, Loki. Such as, are they to remain there indefinitely? What if they have children or a husband? Who will maintain the place?"

"Ah…you beat me to it. Those things I'd like to hire you for."

"Excuse me?"

"Yes…on a part-time basis. And Fandral will allow Darcy to see to other things at Asgard, she is to be attending to the apothecary only half time as well."

"I have a situation, Loki. A demanding one…and a family to consider."

"Well, what if your wife and older child helped? They'd be compensated, of course."

"You wish for me to run a brothel," he sneered, dismissing it.

"Listen here, Selvig. I wish to offer these people, people who no one ever considers, a safe place that they don't need to sell themselves for. Perhaps they can earn some money by cleaning the place. Or making a meal. They should be using it as a stepping off point…because more often than not, women are utterly dependent on men. If they learned something, or helped in some way, then perhaps they will be able to move on and care for themselves in some capacity."

"You have a lot of faith in them, my friend," he sighed.

"Don't you? For god's sake, man. You were there!"

Nothing needed to be said to explain further. Yes. Erik had been there.

"All right, Loki. But allow me to speak to the Missus."

He nodded and stood. "You're coming tomorrow, yes?"

"Wouldn't miss it," he nodded his head.

Loki smiled and left.

He was pleased with how that went, and how everything was rather falling into place. It had been his idea to convert the bookshop (which never really enjoyed any sort of profit) into a home for the homeless. He thought that the demand would be high, but he also thought that the merchants would be happy to supply things, as long as they were paid.

Loki didn't tell anyone that he would be paying, at a reduced rate, for everything Asgard would be offering the women.

He had thought long and hard about what Jane had said at the Ten Bells before she went missing…about doing something for these women…a revolt was what she suggested. And she mentioned it a few days previous as well. It was on her mind…and what concerned her, concerned him. But a revolt was illogical, and likely would do little to actually help them.

So, this was the next option, one which Jane readily accepted.

And even Odin, to a greater or lesser degree.

Loki was pleased. He had done something…he wasn't easily touched, but when he was, it was extreme. And he was softened by the women he watched, and in some cases, failed to protect.

So he would do that now.

"Jane!" he called, entering the house.

"Hello, Loki."

"Ah, Dr. Foster," he took off his cap. "Is Jane at home?"

"She's seeing to her dress for tomorrow. I have something that I'd like to discuss."

Loki looked at him. "All right."

"Come, have a seat."

The two went inside to the sitting room. Loki was apprehensive…Jane's father seldom sought a private interview. "What can I help you with?"

"It simply isn't a matter of helping me with anything, Loki. I want to thank you for your generous offer of having me live with the two of you in Kent. However," he paused. "I'm afraid I'll need to decline your kindness."

"Pardon?"

"Yes…you see, Jane was remiss in her thinking, in that while I love her dearly, I don't really fancy living with her and her new groom. I rather think that," he cleared his throat. "It might cause some…problems…both seen and unforeseen."

Loki blushed. Oh, yes, he turned a fair shade of crimson. This was a most unfortunate occasion to turn thus, for he knew that Dr Foster was testing his mettle, and he didn't want to be considered weak at all.

But weakness is sometimes the child of impropriety, and though Dr Foster had meant no harm in his account, Loki had taken it as such. "You must know that I'll not be engaging in any…carnal activities with your daughter, sir, in the plain open. Things such as that shall remain dutifully in the bedroom."

"How very dull, my son."

Loki's mouth hung agape.

And Dr Foster laughed. "Come now, Loki. I would like to see my daughter happily suited in her marriage. If one limits one's lovemaking to the bedroom throughout one's marriage, how is that to be accomplished?"

"You suggest that a happy marriage depends upon finding different venues for sexual exploits?" he smirked. If he was going to be playful, then Loki would be. too.

"No. But it cannot hurt. At any rate, I must insist that I remain in London where I belong. If you would continue to rent part of this house for me while Fandral and Martha remain as well, I would be most obliged."

Loki considered him for a moment. Was it possible…? "Of course, Dr Foster. It is done."

"Excellent," and he stood. "I'll tell Jane. And Martha. She will want to know that she is retaining a house mate."

Loki smiled to himself as he watched his near father-in-law leave and sighed. It would be marvelous if Jane's father had taken a fancy to Martha Durlish.

He rose and went to the kitchen. "Well, Miss Darcy. What sumptuous meal are you preparing for us this day?" he took a bite of apple.

"Oh, jus' a basic roast, Mista Odinson," she quipped.

"You know, Darcy, you should have phonetic lessons. I reckon you'd be a proper lady if you spoke a bit more…genteel. I know a chap who specializes. Mr. Higgins…not terribly far from here."

"Ya fink I'd be a lady?" her eyes went wide.

"So much, Miss Lewis, depends on how we present ourselves via our language. Yes, I think it'd do you some good," he took another bite. "I'll write to him directly," and he left.

And Darcy smiled at her good fortune.

......

Jane was mucking about with her hair. Her white dress was simple enough, though lace adorned much of the trimmings. She had one Maid, Darcy, and Fandral was standing with Loki. They were marrying in the small chapel just down the road from Loki's home…

No. Hers and Loki's home.

She must get used to that.

Jane was a touch nervous, but the day was very fine, and the affair so small that really there was little cause for nerves of any sort.

"Ya ready, den, Miss?" Darcy was smiling.

Jane nodded, and they were off to the chapel.

.....

The author here allows you, dear reader, to fill in the gaps of the ceremony itself. Sufficient enough to say, there were a few tears, especially when good Dr. Foster handed his daughter to Loki. Frigga was poised and proud, Odin silently approving.

Thor and Sif were in attendance, and it gave Loki pause to see her. Not for any particular reason other than he had met her heretofore with dread and disquiet.

"You appear well, Sif," Loki said, handing her some wine. Brunch was being served, and the Odinson's would be leaving posthaste for their honeymoon.

"I am, thank you," she smiled. "Your bride is a lovely creature," Sif observed. "And you, Loki. So different. Love suites you well."

"It does, this time," he returned with a dark glance. "But come, sister. When can I have the pleasure of spoiling a niece or nephew?"

Sif's gaze fell, then her eyes found Thor.

Thor, who was speaking with Jane.

"It has perfectly astonished us all, Jane!" Thor boomed. "Loki! In love, and married. Such a fine result of all of these horrible goings on!"

"What do you mean?" she sipped her wine.

"Well, I mean all of that Ripper business some months ago…"

Jane quickly looked around for Fandral, and found him deep in conversation with Darcy. "Oh, well," she smiled uncomfortably. "I suppose if one must find a bright spot…"

"We must, Jane! For when such horror occurs, there is nothing to be done but find a bright spot!" he laughed.

"Really, Thor. Some lost everything," she blushed for the thunderous man.

"I know it! And Odin knows! And that is why we are seeing to aiding those effected."

She smiled. "It is generous, Thor. Really. I cannot thank you enough…"

Thor then grasped both of Jane's arms in his hands. "Think nothing of it, sweet sister! We are family now!" he kissed her mouth soundly.

Jane wriggled away, laughing. "You are something, brother," she coughed.

"I'll thank'ee, Thor, for not touching my wife in such a manner," Loki had appeared, quite suddenly, at Jane's side. "You have your own wife to inflict your embrace upon."

"Inflict!" boomed Thor. "As though she did not enjoy it!"

"Hm…she bears the markings of a dissatisfied soul. You ought to see to that directly."

"Dissatisfied?" he appeared to be confused.

"Just so. In other words, she is unhappy with something…it is my opinion that a woman, when she is lacking in certain areas of her life, it is more often than not, the duty of the husband to ensure that she is satiated in the bedroom…"

"Loki…" Jane whispered, elbowing him.

"What, Jane? I'm only looking out for my sister," he smiled innocently.

Jane rolled her eyes and left the two.

"So I'm to have a daughter."

"Odin!" she exclaimed, then laughed a bit nervously. "Is that all right with you, sir?"

"It'll have to be, won't it?" he replied. "But it needn't follow that I'm sorry for it. Loki has long desired a mate, though I'm certain he was loathe to admit such a weakness. I cannot be happier with his choice."

Jane smiled and hugged her father-in law.

"Just don't let me wait too long for some grandchildren. Thor and Sif are dreadfully remiss in that area."

"Why do you suppose that is…?" she looked at Sif, who appeared to be somewhat sad.

"I cannot tell you. Neither she nor Thor are terribly forthright."

"No? Thor certainly gives the appearance of being so."

"My son is loud, Jane. But he is soft. Thor is a very good man, and protects his wife fiercely."

Jane nodded. "Thank you, again for the lovely home."

"Not at all," and Odin kissed her cheek. "When are you leaving?"

"For the honeymoon? Within the hour, I expect."

"I hope you have a lovely time," and he turned, left.

Jane watched him go. She sighed softly and walked to the house. She would need to gather her things.

She was very pleased with the small affair; just twenty people, gathered in Loki's garden, for brunch.

And they were off to Cornwall. Loki had suggested Paris or Venice…but Jane didn't want to be away long, and rather thought that Venice would be there in a few years. She wanted to settle in Kent; ready the house, the apothecary.

"Jane?"

She turned to see her husband in the doorway, smiling.

Her husband…

"Hm?"

"Are you ready?"

"As ever," and she went to him, kissed his lips softly.

.....

America was not what he had expected it to be…not that he had any clear notion of what it would be, but all the same, it wasn't this land of opportunity it advertised itself to be.

This was distressing, for Anthony Stark had promised him things. Things, and he had not delivered.

He had gone to Philadelphia in the hope of meeting him. He understood that he was still in need of parts.

He was thrown from the property.

This was unfortunate on many levels, for he was so very desperate that he began to hate Anthony Stark…irrational hatred filled his mind, poisoned his soul…

…if he had ever had one.

And in his madness and desperation, he went to New York.

Such writhing turmoil seethed his mind…cold months spent in squalor…he begged for help, but little came.

America and her promises can go fuck themselves.

He was lying in the street, a full two years after he had arrived in the land; about six months following his arrival in New York.

He was laying there, when a man tossed him some money. "Get ye up! Whaddya think di is, man?"

He rose, tipped his hat, and ran.

He procured some food and drink…ran ran as fast he could…

"Ya lookin fer a date, man?"

He turned…

…and smiled.

....

It was May, 1891. Almost three years since the terror had began.

Jane was at her shop in Kent when Loki came in with The Times…a look on his face which bespoke of horror. He handed her the paper. "Look at this, Jane."

She took the thing, with an air of confusion…

And her heart stopped as she read the headline…

"He's in America."

....

A/N: Well! That was fun! I must thank Janina for all of her help with this. You might be wondering why on earth I would end it in such a place. Well, since this is an unsolved mystery, it seemed fitting to have the story end kinda unsolved as well. That isn't to say that I wouldn't be averse to a sequel, with maybe Loki and Jane in America...but I dunno. It was a ton of work, this, and I have other unfinished stories to attend to.

But thank you again and again for taking this journey with me! It was a true adventure.


End file.
